
MISS 

POLLY WIGGLES 


EDNA CLARK DAVIS 















































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“Oh. mine’s ahead !’’ cried Marion .—Page 27 


















MISS POLLY 
WIGGLES 

BY 

EDNA CLARK DAVIS 


ILLUSTRATED BY 
JULIA GREENE 




BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


















4 



Copyright, 1925 , 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 

All rights reserved 


Miss Polly Wiggles 


PRINTED IN U. S. A. 


IRorwoofc lptesa 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 

NORWOOD. MASS. 

SEP 14 !925 

©CU 8.61791 





To 

MY NIECE ELIZABETH 

The Original “Polly Wiggles” 
of the Story 


\ 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter i. At “The Lilacs”.9 

Chapter 2. The Dolls’ Bathing-Picnic . . 21 

Chapter 3. Games.33 

Chapter 4. Cubby’s Adventure .... 50 

Chapter 5. Limericks.66 

Chapter 6. Tea at Miss Helen’s .... 84 

Chapter 7. Out in the Storm.99 

Chapter 8. Cubby Plays Nurse . . . .112 

Chapter 9. The Results.127 

Chapter 10. Grandmother’s Story-Quilt . 140 
Chapter ii. When Mother was a Little 

Girl.130 

Chapter 12. Grandpa Tells a Story . . .164 

Chapter 13. The Enchanted Palace Wakes 177 
Chapter 14. An Old Friendship Renewed . 191 
Chapter 15. Gabriel’s Surprise . . . .201 

Chapter 16. Hail to the King and Queen of 

the May!.211 

Chapter 17. Cubby Goes Visiting .... 230 









CONTENTS 


Chapter 

Chapter 

Chapter 


i 8. An Interrupted Tea-Party . 

19. May-Baskets. 

20. The May Frolic . . . . 


PAGE 

• 244 

• 265 
. 291 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“Oh, mine’s ahead!” cried Marion (Page 27) 

Frontispiece 

TAOINa PAGB 

There was a crash, and a ball of fire seemed to 

drop from the sky.102 

She hastily uncorked it and took a sniff . . .126 

Beneath his nimble, clever fingers the flag grew 

rapidly.214 

“Oh, yes, I like frosted cakes derry much” . . 252 

He helped Polly Wiggles into the large pink rose 

that formed her seat.300 





MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


CHAPTER ONE 



AT “THE LILACS” 


HE LILACS” was such a pretty 
place; at least Elizabeth said so, and 
every one that saw it was likely to 
agree with her. It was really the country home 
of Grandmother and Grandfather Carr, and 
Aunt Elsie, Elizabeth’s young-lady aunt, but 
every summer the Eatons went there, too. 

In the first place it was so convenient for Dr. 
Eaton’s practice, and that was the most impor¬ 
tant consideration, for a doctor had to be able to 
get to his patients quickly, and The Lilacs was 
only a half-hour run in the automobile from his 
city office. Then, too, the children loved it, and 
both Dr. and Mrs. Eaton believed it good for 
their little girls to play around in the sweet 
country air. 


9 


10 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


Now let me tell you about the Eatons. First 
there was Dr. Daddy, as the children called him, 
who was a very busy man, but always ready for 
a smile, or a romp with his little brood. Then 
came Mrs. Eaton, who was the prettiest young 
mother any one could imagine, with big brown 
eyes that beamed lovingly at her little try- 
patiences. She was Aunt Elsie’s older sister, 
and Grandmother and Grandfather Carr’s big 
daughter, so you can imagine the good times 
they all had together. 

As for the children, I must first tell you what 
they called themselves. There were just the 
three little girls. Jeannette, the eldest, was well 
past nine and already quite a schoolgirl. Then 
came Elizabeth, or Polly Wiggles, as every one 
nearly always called her. Grandfather Carr 
had given her the nickname, because she was 
such an active little girl that he declared she was 
“always on the wiggle,” and that the stately 
name of Elizabeth did not suit her at all. She 
was nearly as tall as Jeannette, but more than a 
year younger, .and more than four years older 
than Evelyn, the baby of the family. 


II 


AT “THE LILACS ” 

And what do you suppose they called them¬ 
selves? Why, “The Three Bears,” to be sure. 
When they were younger, Mother had read 
them the famous story many times, and while 
Evelyn was still a baby it was Elizabeth’s fertile 
brain that thought, “Why, we’re three bears 
ourselves. Jeannette is the great big bear, I’m 
the middle-sized bear, and Evelyn is the wee little 
cubby bear.” It was a favorite play with the 
children after that, and Evelyn was called “Cub” 
and “Cubby” so much, that the name stuck, as 
many a nickname will, and even Mother and 
Father called this chubby, roly-poly, golden- 
curled daughter, “Cubby.” 

The children were never happier than when 
at The Lilacs, for they dearly loved their grand¬ 
parents and Aunt Elsie. Elizabeth was named 
after Grandmother Carr, and was very proud of 
the fact, while Jeannette had her mother’s name, 
and Evelyn was the name of Dr. Daddy’s 
mother, or their dear silver-haired Grandmother 
Eaton, who had a home at the seashore. 

Grandmother Carr’s hair was as brown as 
Jeannette’s, with scarcely a silver thread in it, 


12 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

but, as Elizabeth said, “Grandfather’s head 
pushed up through his hair,” and all around the 
sides it was gray. 

It was early May, but already the big colonial 
house had been opened for the season, for Cubby 
was still coughing from the effects of the whoop¬ 
ing-cough, and Dr. Daddy thought it wise to 
leave the city. 

So Jeannette and Elizabeth were taken from 
their own school and attended the country school 
at Meadowbrook that was within easy walking- 
distance of The Lilacs. Jeannette was in the 
fifth grade and Elizabeth in the fourth, for both 
little girls were fond of books and well up in 
their studies. They always took their lunches 
with them, for the noon period was short, and 
besides, it was great fun to eat picnic luncheons 
on the green slope outside the school, especially 
as their two best playmates were with them. 

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. Bees 
were already busy sipping honey from the flow¬ 
ers that grew in profusion in the old-fashioned 
gardens, and blue and yellow butterflies paused 
to kiss the purple and white lilac plumes that 


AT “THE LILACS " 13 

sweetened the air with fragrance and gave the 
place its name. 

Under the apple-trees by the brook that wound 
its way about the orchard back of The Lilacs, 
and through the meadows and little woods be¬ 
yond, there was a great chattering going on that 
would make any one think that at least a dozen 
little girls were talking at once, instead of four. 

Aunt Elsie, hidden behind a row of purple li¬ 
lac blossoms, smiled as she pressed closer in her 
arms the big gray cat she was carrying, and 
watched the four little girls who were comfor¬ 
tably lying on their stomachs in the green grass, 
for Elizabeth’s and Jeannette’s best friends had 
come over to play. 

Alice Maxfield was an only child, and lived 
next door to The Lilacs in a pretty summer 
home called “Sweet Briar.” She and Elizabeth 
had been the best of chums since baby days, and 
Polly Wiggles’ thick black curls and Alice’s 
smooth bobbed blonde locks were entwined as 
together they looked over a new book of fairy¬ 
tales. They were both eight, and in the same 
class at school. Marion West was a year older, 


14 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

and the same age as Jeannette, but she was such 
an unusually big girl for her age that she could 
easily have passed for eleven, and overtopped 
Jeannette by half a head. 

Marion was visiting her grandparents for the 
summer at their home, called “Blossom Banks,” 
which was farther down the avenue. Her 
father, Dr. West, was minister in the church the 
Eatons attended in the city, and he usually spent 
his summers at Meadowbrook. Both she and 
Jeannette were busy knitting scarfs for their 
dolls, and, to judge by the snarl Jeannette’s wool 
was in, it would take Mother or Grandmother 
many minutes to untangle it. 

Aunt Elsie smiled again at the pretty picture 
the children made in their bright gingham 
dresses, for the four little girls were four such 
different types. Maybe that was the reason they 
got along so well together, for misunderstand¬ 
ings were few and far between, and quarrels al¬ 
most unknown. 

Alice was plump and rosy, with golden hair 
cut “Dutch,” and the bluest of blue eyes. She 
was a dear little girl, with just enough quietness 


AT “THE LILACS” 15 

in her nature to balance the more mischievous 
and irrepressible Polly Wiggles. For Wiggles 
was mischievous. As Daddy said, “If there was 
any scrape to be gotten into, Wiggles was in.” 

Such black crinkly curls had Wiggles, hang¬ 
ing just below her shoulders, and her blue eyes 
fairly danced with the joy of living. Grand¬ 
father used to say, with a twinkle in his gray 
eyes, “You’re such a thin wisp of a girl that 
some day a puff of wind will blow you away,” 
and Wiggles used to laugh at the idea of 
sailing away over housetops like a dried leaf. 
For no amount of teasing ever bothered her, 
which was most fortunate, for they were a fun- 
loving family, although all teasing was good- 
natured. 

Jeannette had curls, too, long ones, but as 
Wiggles declared, “They hung down in the way 
curls should go, and didn’t snarl all up like cork¬ 
screws.” Then, too, Jeannette had brown eyes 
like Mother, and a great deal of Mother’s sweet, 
calm disposition. She was a thoughtful little 
girl, and rarely got into the funny scrapes that 
her active sister did. 


16 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Marion, who was clever with her fingers, was 
really doing creditable work on her doll’s scarf 
that was to match a cunning little sweater her 
grandmother had made. She was a child who 
took things earnestly, and had a mass of rippling 
red hair that hung far below her waist, and was 
almost too heavy for comfort. 

Wiggles was in a pretty pink gingham dress, 
and Alice had on her favorite blue. Jeannette 
declared that was why it was called “Alice blue.” 
Jeannette’s frock was buff, and Marion’s, leaf- 
green, that contrasted with her glowing mane of 
hair. 

“I wish my hair grew as quickly as yours,” 
said Alice, twisting one of the glowing locks 
around her finger as she spoke. For Marion’s 
hair was cut to her shoulders regularly each sum¬ 
mer, and by the next spring it was long enough 
to sit on. 

“I don’t think Mother will cut it this year,” re¬ 
plied Marion, “but it does get so warm and 
prickly-heaty. It’s lots more comfortable like 
yours, Alice.” 


AT “THE LILACS ” 17 

Alice ruffled her short blonde locks discon¬ 
solately. It made no difference how much she 
mussed herself or disarranged her hair, as, for 
some mysterious reason, she always looked im¬ 
maculate, and hair, dresses, and ribbons seemed 
to fall again into correct folds, no matter how 
hard she played. 

Maybe that was one reason that she and Wig¬ 
gles were such chums, because the contrast was 
so great. It was a marvelous feat for Wiggles 
to arrive home from school intact, for either 
hair-ribbon or handkerchief would have van¬ 
ished, or yawning gathers would show where 
skirt had once joined waist before she had in¬ 
dulged in a few games. Wiggles left each game 
looking a wreck. Alice was unruffled. 

It was a peculiar fact, and one that Wiggles 
greatly deplored. As Mandy, the colored cook, 
declared, “Trouble suah flies to dat chile as de 
spahks fly upwahd.” 

At the present moment Wiggles’ clean pink 
gingham had grass-stains front and back, of 
which she was serenely unconscious, and the big 


18 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

butterfly bow on her hair had slid down to the 
very tip of one fat black curl, and was rescued 
from falling off by Marion, who neatly tied it 
anew. 

Aunt Elsie parted the lilac-bushes gently and 
placed the beautiful gray Persian cat, her spe¬ 
cial pet and pride, on the grass. 

“Now be a good pussy,” she whispered into 
one furry ear, “and take my message.” 

Just as if he understood each word,—and 
maybe he did,—Pussy arched his beautiful fluffy 
tail over his back and picked his way daintily 
over the violet-strewn grass. Aunt Elsie slipped 
back behind the concealing bushes and watched 
his leisurely progress. 

“Why, look!” exclaimed Jeannette, “here 
comes Boots. Here, Boots, Boots!” 

“What is that thing around his neck, under his 
chin?” asked Alice curiously, peering at the 
beautiful pussy. “Why is he called ‘Boots,’ 
Wiggles?” 

“ ’Cause his really-truly name is ‘Puss-in- 
Boots,’ ” explained Wiggles, teetering on one 
foot as she spoke. “He is marked with four 


AT “THE LILACS ” 


19 

white boots on his paws, so we call him Boots, 
for short. Isn’t he a booful angel pussy? 
There,” with a change of tone, “he has some¬ 
thing around his neck, sure as can be. Isn’t 
that queer? Wait and I’ll see what it is.” 

With a dart she pounced on the fuzzy Boots, 
and with much astonishment unfastened a tiny 
gay green-and-white basket that had been fast¬ 
ened to his collar. 

“Oh, my goodness, girls, he’s a postman, or 
postcat!” she squealed, much excited. “Here 
are four little letters addressed to us in the basket, 
—one for each of us.” 

Boots, much relieved to be separated from his 
“mail-sack,” curled down in Jeannette’s lap and 
took cat-naps, while four excited little girls tore 
open the tiny pink envelopes, and read this in¬ 
vitation : 

“You are invited to a dolls’ bathing-picnic at ten- 
thirty this morning at Fleur-de-Lys Point. Bring 
your little dolls, and dolls’ furniture.” 

Four little girls squealed with pleasure. 

“I’ll have to ask permission,” exclaimed 



20 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Marion and Alice in one breath. “Won’t it be 
lovely? What time is it now?” 

“It’s just ten o’clock,” announced Aunt Elsie, 
appearing beside the little girls, “and I already 
have asked permission of Marion’s grandmother 
and Alice’s mother, so it won’t be necessary for 
you to go home, as you have your dolls with 
you.” 

“Oh,” squealed Wiggles, “then let’s pack and 
go quick.” With a rush she was off to the house, 
and reappeared a few minutes later with a huge 
market-basket, into which dolls, furniture, and 
dishes had been dumped pell-mell. To this 
she added Jeannette’s, Alice’s, and Marion’s 
dolls. 

Then, led by Aunt Elsie, carrying a big red 
sunshade, and followed by the faithful Boots, 
the little party crossed the rustic bridge and 
walked through the green meadow-grasses 
along the brook, to the spot near the woods that 
had been named Fleur-de-Lys Point. 


CHAPTER TWO 

THE DOLLS’ BATHING-PICNIC 

W HAT is a dolls’ bathing-picnic, 

Aunt Elsie?” inquired Wiggles cu¬ 
riously. “Our dolls can’t swim, 

you know.” 

“Wait and see,” replied Aunt Elsie mys¬ 
teriously. 

“You do think of the nicest things,” said 
Jeannette, slipping her hand in her aunt’s. 

Here Wiggles, who had scurried on ahead of 
the others, came puffing back, her hair in a wild 
curly mass from heat and perspiration. 

“I could just see the Point,” she panted breath¬ 
lessly, “and, what do you think, Auntie? I 
could see some horrid boys there, so we won’t be 
able to go there after all. Isn’t that mean?” 

“Ugh! I hate boys,” cried Alice. “You 
can have so much nicer times when there are 
just girls. I do think all boys ought to live in a 




22 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

menagerie, they’re so fond of bugs, and toads, 
and horrid things.” 

“Well,” confessed Aunt Elsie, “you see, I in¬ 
vited some boys myself, so I don’t doubt but that 
they are there ahead of us.” 

“You did? Boys?” echoed Wiggles. “To 
a dolls’ party? Why, Auntie!” 

Aunt Elsie laughed again. “They’ll only be 
with us for a little while,” she explained. “I 
asked Marion’s brother, Hugh, and your own 
cousins, Billy and Dick. They won’t be so bad, 
will they?” 

“I hope not,” replied Jeannette, doubtfully 
it must be confessed. “They always have to 
race around and upset and break things so, and 
make such a noise.” 

The four little girls walked on together, arms 
around each other’s waists, brown, black, yel¬ 
low, and red hair mingling. 

“I do think boys are disgustable creatures,” 
declared Wiggles, tossing her curls. “No good 
at all unless you want to go swimming or some¬ 
thing.” 

“I think so, too,” declared Marion unexpec- 


THE DOLLS’ BATHING-PICNIC 23 

tedly. “Always pulling my hair and calling 
me, ‘Carrots’ and ‘Red Head’ and ‘Ginger.’ ” 

“The idea!” said Jeannette indignantly. 
“Your hair is perfectly beautiful.” 

“It’s what is called ‘Tissue’ hair,” announced 
Wiggles with an air of wisdom. “I heard one 
of the teachers say so, though I can’t see why 
it’s called that. It’s not a bit like tissue paper.” 

“Oh, Wiggles!” laughed Jeannette; “you’ll 
certainly kill me. It’s ‘Titian’ hair, not ‘Tis¬ 
sue,’ and ‘Titian’ is a Latin or Greek name for 
‘red,’ I think.” 

“Well,” agreed Wiggles serenely, joining in 
the laughter, “it’s a much more ’spressive word 
than ‘red,’ anyway.” 

Fleur-de-Lys Point was well named. There 
the brook gurgled along over flat stones and tiny 
pebbles, while masses of purple and white fleur- 
de-lys clustered about its bank, and even sent up 
daring shoots of green in the rippling water. 
The mossy bank was thickly carpeted with vi¬ 
olets, and under a huge old willow-tree, that 
spread its drooping boughs over the crystal 
waters, the “disgustable” boys were waiting. 


24 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Wiggles’ cousins, Billy and Dick Gerard, 
were really very nice, jolly boys, full of spirits 
and boyishness, and, notwithstanding the little 
girls’ previous remarks, they were very fond of 
their good-natured cousins. Richard, or Dick 
as he was called, was ten; and William, who 
never answered to anything but “Bill,” or 
“Billy,” was past twelve. They were both 
strong, husky lads, with dark hair and eyes like 
Jeannette’s. 

Hugh, Marion’s brother, was Dick’s insep¬ 
arable pal and bosom crony, and had a head of 
heavy mahogany-colored hair several shades 
darker than his sister’s. 

“If there isn’t Polly Wiggles,” greeted Billy. 
“Wiggles, every single hair on your head stands 
erect.” 

The four little girls dropped down on the 
mossy bank, first carefully putting the market- 
basket, which they had taken turns in carrying, 
at the gnarled roots of the willow tree. 

“Isn’t it lovely and shady here?” said Alice 
with a blissful sigh of content. 

“Usually is shady under a tree,” teased Dick. 


THE DOLLS’ BATHING-PICNIC 25 

“Goodness,” said Marion, wiping her flushed 
face and trying to hold up her heavy hair away 
from her neck. 

Aunt Elsie secured both Jeannette’s and 
Marion’s long locks with hairpins on top of 
their heads, and the two little girls felt quite 
grown up. 

“Wiggles looks like a Fiji Islander,” said 
Hugh, for every strand corkscrewed out from 
her head in a mass of short, kinking curls. 

“All you need is a ring in your nose,” gibed 
Billy. 

“Well,” agreed Wiggles unruffled, “if I had a 
ring, I’d be a ‘belle’ I s’pose.” There was a gen¬ 
eral shout at this, and Billy pretended to faint 
away at such brain work in one so young. 

Then Aunt Elsie pointed to the willow 
boughs above them, and, looking up, the little 
girls spied four small bundles, tied to the 
branches within easy reach of their eager hands, 
and each package was marked with a little girl’s 
name. 

“More s’prises,” beamed Wiggles. “I just 
love s’prises. Oh!” with a shriek of joy; “just 


26 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

see what I have,” and she held aloft the dearest 
little celluloid doll, dressed in a brilliant scarlet 
bathing-suit. 

“And mine,” echoed Jeannette, holding up a 
blue-clad bather. Alice and Marion had the 
same, but Marion’s doll wore a green suit, and 
Alice’s a purple. 

“Now,” said Aunt Elsie briskly, “we will 
have a swimming contest for the four doll- 
ladies.” 

Seeing the girls’ look of surprise, the boys 
shouted. 

“Celluloid floats, you know,” Dick explained 
to the girls at large. “What’s the matter? Are 
you afraid they’ll spoil their bathing-suits?” 

Billy acted as master of ceremonies, and at 
his, “One, two, three, go!” each doll fell with a 
splash from the stone where it had been held by 
its little owner. 

The current carried them gently down-stream, 
and even the boys became excited in seeing 
which would pass the “tape” first, which was a 
piece of string from Hugh’s pocket, fastened 
across the brook to the bushes on each side. 


THE DOLLS' BATHING-PICNIC 27 

“Oh, mine’s ahead!” cried Marion, her eyes 
intent on the green-clad swimmer. 

“There goes Wiggles’ first,” said Billy, as 
Marion’s doll suddenly swung round in a circle, 
delaying its progress. 

“See mine, see mine!” squealed Alice, jump¬ 
ing up and down on the bank, and nearly tum¬ 
bling in to join the bathers. 

But it would take too long to tell you all the 
details of the “swim,” except to say that Wiggles’ 
doll was side-tracked by a surprised little turtle, 
that snapped angrily at the red cloth, thinking 
it, no doubt, a new variety of food. How the 
children screamed with laughter, Wiggles as 
much as any one, although it put her out of the 
race, as her doll bumped and stopped against a 
stone. 

Jeannette’s doll swam straight into a mass of 
fleur-de-lys and became entangled among them, 
but Alice’s and Marion’s dolls went gayly on 
down-stream, sometimes one ahead, sometimes 
the other, until a fluttering breeze caught the 
purple doll and rushed her under the line vic¬ 
torious. 


28 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Such cheers as then arose! Even the boys 
clapped and acknowledged that they would 
never have believed a doll’s race could be so 
thrilling. Then, after the swimmers had been 
rescued and were once more on dry land, Alice’s 
doll received a prize, which proved to be a cun¬ 
ning little clock for her doll-house, that could 
tick when wound, and wave its pendulum back 
and forth. 

If care had not been taken, the boys would 
have had it apart, to see “what made it go.” So 
busy were the girls admiring the prize that they 
never noticed when the boys slipped away into 
the woods for a few moments, and they jumped 
with a start when the three lads crept up behind 
them and tumbled into each little girl’s lap,— 
what do you suppose? A cunning little birch- 
bark canoe, made with their own hands from 
scraps of bark. You can imagine how pleased 
they were. 

“Where did you get them?” cried Jeannette, 
gazing admiringly at her tiny craft. 

“We made them yesterday, and Aunt Elsie 
sewed the ends for us,” answered Dick. 


THE DOLLS’ BATHING-PICNIC 29 

“Then we hid them in a stump in the woods 
until now,” explained Hugh. “Aren’t they 
crackerjacks?” 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” called Bill, “the next 
race will be a canoe race. Only members of 
the Fleur-de-Lys Country Club may take part 
in this, and all who enter must pay an admission 
fee of one gold-piece, and, of course, the usual 
war tax.” 

As dandelions were accepted for gold, and vi¬ 
olets for the taxes, the members soon paid their 
fees, and the Fleur-de-Lys Country Club race 
was ready for action. 

“Man your boats!” cried Billy. 

Into each canoe went a brave swimmer, still 
in full bathing costume. What mattered it that 
each doll had to lie flat on her back, owing to an 
inability to sit, as most celluloid dolls are made 
unbendable. 

“It’s a clever canoeist indeed,” laughed Aunt 
Elsie, “that can paddle while lying down.” 

Then Billy called again, “One, two, three, 
go!” and away the tiny crafts sailed, puffed along 
by the soft spring breezes. The same tape was 


3 o MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

again the goal. But, alas, Alice’s and Jean¬ 
nette’s boats came to grief very soon. They 
rammed one another, capsized, and would have 
floated unmanned if they had not been rescued 
by Hugh. 

“He deserves a life-saver’s medal,” laughed 
Wiggles, as the dripping purple and blue dolls 
were carried ashore. 

“We must roll them over a barrel to bring 
them to life,” cried Jeannette. “That’s what 
they always do if you nearly drown.” 

This proved very absorbing, with a large 
stone used as a barrel, while “Doctor” Jeannette 
Eaton looked professionally grave, and Alice 
gasped, “My child, my child! Is she dead all 
over?” At last the doctor declared them out of 
danger, and, after recommending some dan¬ 
delion wine to brace them up, ordered them 
rolled up in handkerchiefs and put in the sun to 
take a “sun-cure.” 

Meanwhile Wiggles’ boat with its scarlet oc¬ 
cupant crossed the “tape” first, and again a prize 
mysteriously appeared from Aunt Elsie’s work- 
bag, in the form of a tiny doll’s piano, just big 


THE DOLLS’ BATHING-PICNIC 31 

enough for a doll-house; for Wiggles was pas¬ 
sionately fond of music, and could hardly wait 
until fall when she would start music-lessons. 

“O, dear me suz, there’s the twelve-o’clock 
bell. I’ll have to go home for luncheon,” be¬ 
moaned Marion. “Did you ever see a morning 
go so fast in your life? Haven’t we had the 
loveliest time?” 

“How are the patients, Dr. Eaton?” inquired 
Dick, nodding toward the two dolls, still taking 
their sun-bath. 

“Very, very poorly,” said Dr. Eaton, looking 
grave and shaking her topknot of curls. “They 
have a ‘temperment’ of one hundred and forty 
degrees.” 

They were indeed very warm from the broil¬ 
ing sun, and were tenderly carried up under the 
willow-tree and comfortably arranged on a bed 
of moss. 

“I greatly fear,” said the doctor, looking wise, 
“that we shall have to call in a nurse, as they will 
have chills soon, and water on the brain from 
their nearness to drowning.” 

“Do give them something fashionable,” urged 


32 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Wiggles. “Any one can have chills. Let’s 
have something where there can be a card on the 
door; it looks so kind of exclusive,—yellow 
plague, or black peril, or something like that.” 

“Why, where’s your aunt?” asked Alice, no¬ 
ticing, for the first time, that Aunt Elsie had dis¬ 
appeared. “We must thank her and hurry 
home.” 

“She’s up in the woods,” said Billy, looking 
as if he wanted to laugh at something. 

So, clutching their treasures, all four girls 
followed the whooping boys up the bank, to the 
curve of the stream at the edge of the woods. 
And there, what do you suppose they saw? 


CHAPTER THREE 


GAMES 


HERE, on the ground, surrounded by 
wild-azalea bushes, whose coral-pink 
blossoms filled the air with a deli¬ 
cious perfume, was spread a white cloth, and, 
unpacking things from a big hamper, were 
Mother and Grandma, and Aunt Elsie; while 
James, Grandpa Carr’s colored chauffeur, was 
grinning broadly over a big freezer full of ice¬ 
cream, and Cubby trotted around on her fat 
little legs and got in every one’s way. 

It was such a lovely surprise, although the 
boys had known all about it; and as Alice’s and 
Marion’s people had been asked by Mother, the 
two little girls could stay with clear consciences 
and enjoy the delicious picnic luncheon. 
There were pink-and-white ham sandwiches, 
and stacks of others with jelly, lettuce, and 
peanut-butter filling. Then came fruit salad 


33 



34 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

from the thermos bottle, and, of course, olives, 
candies, and salted peanuts. And when all 
these goodies had vanished down hungry throats, 
some of Mandy’s chocolate cake appeared, with 
two pink candles on it, “Because,” Aunt Elsie 
explained, “it’s Boots’ second birthday.” How 
they all laughed and petted Boots, who enjoyed 
the ham as much as any one, and washed his 
paws most daintily after each course. He 
blinked his big green eyes in astonishment at 
the flickering candles atop the cake, but ate his 
ice cream with much gusto, to show how much 
he appreciated this birthday celebration. 

“Oh, do let’s celebrate Boots’ birthday every 
year!” cried Wiggles, dancing around with a 
piece of cake in each hand. “It’s lots more fun 
than a real birthday party.” 

“We ought to play Puss-in-the-corner so he 
could join in,” suggested Alice, but Boots, de¬ 
ciding that luncheon was over, settled himself 
under the bushes for a cozy nap. 

“What let’s play?” asked Jeannette. “I’ve 
eaten and eaten until I don’t want to move.” 

“Here’s a new game I’ve found for you, chil- 


GAMES 35 

dren,” said Grandma, producing papers and 
pencils, which she passed around. “I’ll read 
you a list of questions, and each answer must be 
in two words. The first word must start with 
your first initial, and the second word with your 
last initial. Some of the answers turn out very 
funny, and I’m sure you will enjoy it.” 

Mother and Aunt Elsie decided to finish clear¬ 
ing away the remains of the picnic, so only the 
children played, while Grandma read the 
questions. 

They worked industriously, with many a 
stifled giggle, and when all were finished, the 
papers were passed to Grandma to read aloud. 

The first question had been, “How would you 
describe yourself?” Marion, whose initials 
were M. W., had written “Marvelously Wise.” 
Spelling was not counted, and it was most for¬ 
tunate, as there were some odd blunders. 
“What is your chief sport?” brought the an¬ 
swer, “Mangling Wash,” over which there were 
many laughs. 

“You’ll make your fortune if you turn wash- 
lady nowadays,” said Billy. “You’d better start 


36 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

saving your pennies toward an electric washing- 
machine, if that is your chief aim in life.” 

The third question was, “What is your favorite 
food?” to which Marion had written “Maple 
Whip,” which Grandmother and Mother 
thought very appropriate. 

But she had a hard struggle with the last ques¬ 
tion, which asked what trade or profession she 
wished her future husband to follow. Finally, 
after much pencil-nibbling and thought, she put 
down, “Merely Workman.” The girls de¬ 
clared it great fun, and listened with interest as 
Grandmother read Dick’s paper next. 

For his description he had, “Real Good,” 
which caused them to shout, as Richard was al¬ 
ways in mischief and out again. “Riding 
Goats” was his favorite amusement, and “Rich 
Gravy” his favorite food. The boys put their 
own future profession for the last question, and 
Dick decided to be a “Real Gentleman,” which 
ended his paper. 

“This is lots of fun, Grandma,” laughed Jean¬ 
nette. “Why didn’t you tell us about it before?” 

“Because I only saw it myself last week, in a 


GAMES 37 

newspaper,” confessed Grandma. “I’ll read 
Alice’s now.” 

“ ‘A’ is such a pretty letter to have,” sighed 
Wiggles enviously. “Just think, both my in¬ 
itials are the same, and it made it awfully hard 
’cause I had so little choice.” 

“Well, don’t look so doleful about it, Miss 
Polly-Wog-Wiggles,” returned Billy. “Any 
one that has three such marvelous nicknames as 
Polly, Woggsie, and Wiggles ought not to com¬ 
plain. Oh, Aunt Elsie, will you ever forget 
the time we were shopping in Morristown, and 
that old gentleman complimented Wogs on her 
name?” 

“What was the joke?” inquired Marion with 
interest. 

“Why, one time Grandfather, Aunt Elsie, 
Wiggles, and I were doing some marketing in 
Morristown. Grandfather—he’s not really my 
grandfather, but I always call him that—was in 
a hurry to get home, and called to Wiggles, who 
was looking in a shop window, as all girls will,” 
—here Wiggles interrupted with a loud sniff of 
disdain,—“and said, ‘Get a wiggle on, Polly.’ 



38 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

There was an old gentleman passing by, and he 
stopped and beamed and said, ‘It certainly is a 
pleasure to hear an old-fashioned name like 
Polly, after the new-fangled names they call 
children nowadays. Always be proud of your 
name, little Miss Polly.’ ” 

“What did you say?’’ asked Alice, much 
amused. 

“I didn’t get a chance to say a single word,” 
replied Wiggles, “for I was so s’prised that I just 
stood stock-still until he was ’way down the 
street, and then I didn’t want to go rushing after 
a strange man and say, ‘My name isn’t Polly at 
all, just “Polliwog,” and Wiggles for short.’ 
Wouldn’t he have been ’stonished?” 

“I think he would,” laughed Mother, seating 
herself on the soft grass and pulling Cubby be¬ 
side her. “You’re such a heedless little witch, 
that it would have been just about like you.” 

“How are the literary efforts coming along?” 
inquired Aunt Elsie, as, after sending James 
home with the empty hamper, she joined the 
laughing crowd. 

So Grandmother started once more, and they 


GAMES 39 

found out that Alice described herself as an 
“Ambitious Maiden,” and gave her favorite 
sport as “Any Mathematics,” which drew a gig¬ 
gle from Wiggles, as Alice disliked arithmetic 
more than anything else. 

“You thought ‘A’ was such an easy letter, 
Wiggles,” declared Alice, “but it was dreadfully 
hard.” 

One and all declared Alice’s favorite article of 
food, “Almond Macaroons,” to be the best of all, 
and Marion cried, “Wouldn’t they taste good 
with my ‘Maple Whip’?” 

“Don’t, for pity sake, talk about eating,” 
groaned Jeannette. “I ate three times more 
than I should have, and I don’t believe I could 
eat another thing.” 

“That’s because you were piggy,” jeered Dick, 
pulling one of her brown curls that had fallen 
from the knot atop her head. 

“Not half so piggy as you,” retorted Jeannette. 
“Who ate five slices of cake and three plates of 
cream, I’d like to know? And as for sand¬ 
wiches, I couldn’t begin to count.” 

“Order, order!” cried Aunt Elsie, and they all 


40 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

quieted down to hear that Alice’s future hus¬ 
band would be “A Mason.” 

“Read Jeannette’s next,” implored Wiggles. 
“ ‘J’ is such a hard letter.” 

So, as Grandmother was tired, Mother started 
on the next slip of paper. 

Description, “Just Elegant,” wrote Jeannette 
in her round, clear hand. 

“Favorite sport, ‘Just Eating,’ ” broke in 
Dick, snickering. “Ha, ha, Jet, I got you that 
time.” 

“No, it’s Juggling Elephants,” replied 
Mother with a smile. “You’ll need a good deal 
of muscle for that sport, my dear.” 

Favorite food, “Juicy Egg-plant,” went on the 
writing, and Jeannette had settled on a “Jolly 
Eskimo” for her future partner. 

“You’ll have to live in a snow hut and eat 

/ 

whale-blubber and delicacies like that,” put in 
Billy. “What a happy future to look forward 
to. You know they woo you by seizing you by 
the hair of your head and dragging you away. 
You have good hair for an Eskimo bride. See, 
he’ll do like this—” and Billy grabbed the long 



GAMES 


4i 

curls and gave a blood-curdling exhibition of an 
Eskimo groom, until Jeannette shrieked that he 
was pulling her hair out by the roots, and Cub¬ 
by’s lip began to quiver suspiciously. 

“You’re a bad, bad boy to hurt my Jet,” she 
wailed. “I don’t think your muvver has 
brought you up derry (very) nicely.” 

“He was just fooling,” explained Jet, wiping 
away the big tears streaming down the wee bear’s 
face. 

“I offer my humble apologies,” said Billy 
gravely. “There, Cub, does that suit you? I 
am afraid she’ll find the weather a trifle chilly 
up by the North Pole. In fact, little Miss Snip¬ 
pets, if you cried like that up in Eskimo land, all 
your tears would turn to ice and freeze your 
face.” 

Cubby felt her plump cheeks cautiously, as 
if fearing the freezing process might have al¬ 
ready started. 

“Maybe Jet will live wite next door to Santy 
Claus,” she volunteered happily. “And—and 
maybe when I visit her she’ll let me eat lots and 
lots of Eskimo pie.” 



42 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Billy let out a war-whoop. “I never thought 
of that, but maybe she will,” he told the ecstatic 
Cubby, who was beaming at the idea. “How 
about it, Jet?” 

“Well, she won’t have to complain about my 
eating too much raw fish and blubber when I 
visit her,” teased Dick. 

“How do you know you’ll be invited?” re¬ 
turned Jeannette calmly. 

“Hugh, you are next,” said Mother. “Hugh 
describes himself as ‘Heavily Whiskered,’ so I 
suppose that is the way we are to imagine him.” 

“Oh, Hugh,” cried Alice in horror. “Just 
think how terrible red whiskers would look.” 

“I am going to have them down to my 
waist when I grow up,” declared Hugh calmly, 
not at all upset by the shrieks of derision that 
greeted his announcement. 

“Lovely place for a bird’s nest,” put in Dick 
kindly. “One thing though, they’d be fine for 
polishing your shoes, and you’d never need to 
wear a necktie or a clean shirt, because no one 
could ever tell, if you were camouflaged with 
billy-goat whiskers.” 


GAMES 43 

“Oh, that reminds me,” laughed Grandma sud¬ 
denly, “of one time when Wiggles was about 
Cubby’s age, and Grandfather and I, and her 
great-grandfather—my father, children—took 
her to Bronx Park to see the menagerie. She 
was charmed with everything, but stood longest 
before a little goat, and gazed and gazed at her. 
Finally she piped up in a shrill, loud voice, with 
a most angelic smile, as she pointed at the goat, 
‘Oh, him has whiskers just like my dear, dear, 
great-grandpa.’ ” 

“What did you do with me?” demanded Wig¬ 
gles in horror. “Wasn’t I a disgraceful child?” 

“Maybe your ‘muvver’ didn’t bring you up 
‘derry’ well, either,” quoted Billy mischievously. 

“I didn’t do anything,” said Grandma, laugh¬ 
ing at the recollection, “except laugh, for every 
one around just shouted. You talked so very 
plainly that every word could be understood, and 
your great-grandfather never got over telling 
about when he was compared to a goat. He 
thought it was very cunning.” 

“Well, I think it was just dreadful,” de¬ 
clared Wiggles solemnly. “I don’t see, Mother, 


44 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

where you ever got such a mortor-fying child.” 

“Well,” said Mother cheerfully, “I seem to 
stand the strain very well. Now, let’s see what 
Hugh has chosen as his favorite sport.” 

“Harpooning Whales” was to be the bewhis- 
kered man’s hobby, and “Hot Waffles” his chief 
joy to eat. 

“And that’s true,” broke in Marion suddenly. 
“He ate seventeen one morning, just oozing with 
syrup.” 

“Yum-yum, weren’t they good,” murmured 
her brother with a far-away look in his eyes. 
“And I could have eaten more, only Grandma 
wouldn’t let me.” 

“I should think not,” said Aunt Elsie in dis¬ 
may. “How did you ever do it?” 

“That’s nothing,” broke in Dick, not wishing 
to be left behind. “I ate twenty-two hot cakes 
one morning, didn’t I, Billy?” 

“Well it’s nothing to brag of,” said Wiggles 
crushingly. “I think boys are the queerest-” 

“Help, help,” cried Billy. “Some one head 
her off, quick! If Wiggles once gets on the sub¬ 
ject of ‘What I think of boys,’ she’ll expound 



GAMES 


45 

on their faults and shortcomings until night.” 

“And then not have nearly enough time to 
mention them all,” put in Wiggles, bound to 
have the last word. 

“To resume our reading,” said Mother, 
“ ‘Hard Work’ is to be Hugh’s profession.” 

This raised another shout, for Hugh was a 
bookworm, and greatly believed in putting off 
until to-morrow everything that could be done 
to-day. 

“Here, Woggsie,” said Aunt Elsie, “this 
much-besmudged paper looks like yours. I’ll 
read the next two, and give Mother’s throat a 
chance to rest.” 

“Description,” scrawled Wiggles, whose 
handwriting was not of the best, “Extremely Ex¬ 
quisite.” 

“You don’t mind patting yourself on the back, 
youngster, do you?” inquired Billy, pulling a 
crinkly curl. 

“I can’t help my initials,” answered Wiggles 
loftily. “ ’Twasn’t a bit of fun having both let¬ 
ters the same, I can tell you.” 

Wiggles’ chief hobby was “Entertaining 


46 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Earls,” at which Billy gave a deep groan; and 
she was fond of eating “Enormous Eclairs,” 
which happened to be true. As for her hus¬ 
band-to-be, he was an “Electrical Engineer,” 
which she declared to be the only easy answer 
she had. 

“Now for William Gerard, better known as 
Billy,” said Aunt Elsie. “Here it is; Descrip¬ 
tion, ‘Wise Guy.’ ” 

“Now who thinks a lot of himself?” jeered 
Wiggles, turning up her nose. 

“Look out, look out,” called Billy, as if in 
great alarm. “It turns up enough now, and if 
you tilt it up too far, it may never get back.” 

“Silly,” was Wiggles’ lofty reply. 

“Chief sport,” continued Aunt Elsie, “ ‘West¬ 
ern Gunning.’ ” For Billy was wild to hunt 
and shoot. “Favorite food,” Aunt Elsie re¬ 
sumed, “ ‘White Grapes.’ Future profession, 
‘Writing Geographies.’ ” 

“You’ll be some literary gentleman,” jeered 
Hugh. 

“But haven’t they been fun?” beamed Wig¬ 
gles. “I wish there were more to read.” 


GAMES 47 

“Here is one more question you may each 
answer aloud,” said Grandma. “I’ll give 
you five minutes to think of your favorite 
flower.” 

“Nothing starts with a ‘J,’ ” bemoaned Jean¬ 
nette. “I’ll never think of one.” 

“Time’s up,” said Mother, looking at her 
wrist-watch. “Who’ll answer first?” 

“I will,” answered Dick. “My flower is ‘Red 
Geranium.’ ” 

“Very good,” approved Grandmother. 
“Now I can see that Marion is ready.” 

“ ‘Milk-Weed,’ ” replied Marion blushing. 
“It’s the only thing I can think of with my 
initials.” 

“ ‘Elephant’s Ears,’ ” called out Wiggles. 
“You know, those big flappy plants that grow 
in front of the post-office.” 

“ ‘Japanese Elderberry,’ ” ventured Jeannette, 
“and I’m not even sure that there is such a Japan¬ 
ese plant.” 

“It will do,” answered Grandma, smiling at 
her little granddaughter. “What shall we hear 
from you, Hugh?” 


48 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Hardy Wisteria,” said Hugh triumphantly. 
“My, that was hard. Hurry up, Bill; you ought 
to be ‘Sweet William.’ ” 

“Ladies first,” returned William with a gal¬ 
lant flourish toward Alice, whose brow was 
puckered with thought. 

“Prithee tell me, little one, what your favorite 
posy may be?” 

“ ‘Autumn Marigolds,’ ” answered Alice 
quickly. “Now tell yours.” 

“ ‘Winter Green,’ ma’am. How does that 
suit the Lady Alice?” 

“That isn’t a flower at all; it’s a flavor,” cried 
Marion. 

“You ask Grandmother,” cried William 
loftily, “if it isn’t a plant, and a flowering one, 
too. Dear, dear, such ignorance as you kidlets 
show. Ta-ta, youngsters, we men are going 
fishing.” 

“Men, indeed,” sniffed Wiggles, much 
amused. “Why, you’re nothing but just little 
boys.” 

After the boys had gone, the grown-ups col- 


GAMES 


49 

lected embroidery-bags and other belongings, 
and, with Boots and Cubby leading, the proces¬ 
sion returned once more to the willow-tree and 
Fleur-de-Lys Point. 


CHAPTER FOUR 

cubby’s adventure 


T looked as if the fairies had been at work, 
for there under the spreading willow-tree 
JL were five tiny tents, each big enough to hold 
a family of dolls with comfort. 

With cries of delight, all four friends and 
Cubby danced round and round, exclaiming: 
“Where did you get them? Aren’t they cun¬ 
ning?” 

While the children were enthusing, Grandma, 
Mother, and Aunt Elsie settled themselves com¬ 
fortably with their embroidery, and smiled at 
the children’s raptures. 

“Do you like them?” asked Aunt Elsie. 

“Indeed we do. We never saw dolls’ tents 
before,” chorused the girls. 

“I know you’re ’mused about something by 
the ’spression around your mouth, Aunt Elsie. 




CUBBY’S ADVENTURE 51 

Please be a dear good auntie, and stop teasing us 
and tell us where you got them?” implored Wig¬ 
gles, dancing up and down in her excitement. 

“Yes, pretty please,” begged Jeannette. “You 
have a wicked twinkle in your eyes.” 

“Oh, oh, let me see it!” demanded Cubby, ap¬ 
proaching on a run, and peering at her aunt’s 
eyes with interest. “Does it hurt you, Aunt 
Elsie?” 

“Does what hurt?” asked Aunt Elsie, catch¬ 
ing up the wee bear to give her a hug and a 
kiss. 

“The—the thing that Jet said was in your eye. 
You know, the ‘squinkle,’ ” explained Cubby, 
hunting through her mind for the word and 
bringing it out triumphantly. 

“Oh, oh, Mother, she thinks it’s something like 
having a cinder in the eye,” shrieked Wiggles, 
much amused. 

Cubby was much offended by the mirth her 
remark caused. She hated to be laughed at by 
the older girls. “It’s not polite to laugh,” she 
told them with dignity, her very curls bristling 
with indignation. “You just wait till you’re a 


52 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

itty bit of a gurrl and I’m a big grown-up lady, 
and then see how you feel when I laugh at your 
‘steaks.’ ” 

“So you shall,” replied Wiggles good- 
naturedly. “You shall look at me like this,” and 
she gave a condescending glance down toward 
her feet. “And you may laugh at my ‘steaks’ as 
much as you want,'—and my chops, too,” she 
finished with a giggle. 

“And what will you do?” asked Cubby breath¬ 
lessly, all dignity gone before this absorbing by- 
play. 

“Oh, I’ll shrink, and shrink, beneath your 
withering stare, until I shrivel up like a dried 
leaf, and blow away. Now Auntie, do tell us 
where you got the tents.” 

“Well, those ‘disgustable’ boys made the 
framework,” replied Aunt Elsie demurely,” and 
Mother and I made the cotton squares to cover 
them. We thought your dolls might enjoy 
tenting for a change.” 

“I’ll never call those boys ‘disgustable’ again,” 
puffed Wiggles, rushing back and forth like a 
busy little beaver, and carrying dolls’ furniture 


CUBBY’S ADVENTURE 


53 

and dishes with which to arrange the tents. 
“They’re just perfect pets,” she finished. 

It was to be doubted as to whether or not the 
boys would have enjoyed being called “pets.” 
Perhaps it was just as well that they did not 
hear. 

“It’s the loveliest picnic that I ever saw,” de¬ 
clared Alice positively, arranging a tiny bed 
with covers and pillows. “Let’s pretend that 
this is a girls’ camp on a big lake.” 

The idea was seized with enthusiasm, and 
Jeannette rushed to get the “invalids,” who were 
still resting on their mossy beds. 

“They are here for their health,” she an¬ 
nounced importantly, “as their doctor told them 
they needed to go to a health resort.” 

“What shall we name the camp?” demanded 
Marion, arranging a table, out on the mossy 
“lawn,” with tiny dishes and cups. “They must 
eat out-of-doors, for that’s the way they do at 
Maine camps.” 

Marion had spent part of one summer in the 
Maine woods, and so the children considered her 
an authority on camping. 


54 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Pine Grove,” suggested Jeannette. “Oh, I 
forgot there aren’t any pines near by.” 

“Pebbly Brook Camp,” suggested Wiggles, 
which was declared just the thing. 

“It seems to me,” said Mother, who had been 
watching the camp with much interest, “that you 
need some hammocks out under your trees. 
Don’t your dolls enjoy swinging?” 

“Oh,” said Marion earnestly, “we had lots and 
lots of hammocks when we were at camp in 
Maine, but I don’t see how we could fix any 
here.” 

“How would these do?” asked Mother, hold¬ 
ing up the cunningest little cocoon-shaped ham¬ 
mocks that she had been busy making from 
scraps of muslin and string. “Cubby, you ras¬ 
cal, what have you done with my scissors and 
thread? Somebody rescue them. Quick, catch 
her!” 

The advice came too late. Splash, splash, 
went the scissors into the brook, and Wiggles 
rescued them with difficulty by going out on the 
stepping-stones and teetering there while she 
fished for them. Of course she fell in. If there 


CUBBY’S ADVENTURE 55 

was an inch of water, Wiggles always landed in 
it. So off had to come the pink gingham dress 
and be hung on the bushes to dry, while, 
wrapped in an old apron which, fortunately, 
Grandma had brought to protect her dress while 
dishing out ice-cream, Wiggles serenely went 
back to her play, unmindful of the funny spec¬ 
tacle she made, wound about in a lavender per¬ 
cale apron, fastened with safety-pins. 

The hammocks were hung before fleur-de-lys 
plants, and the campers greatly enjoyed using 
them. Ting-a-ling-a-ling rang Alice, using the 
bell on Boots’ collar for a dinner-bell, and caus¬ 
ing him to open one indignant eye at being so 
rudely disturbed. “Come to the camp dinner.” 
So all the campers in swimming, and those boat¬ 
ing or comfortably resting in hammocks, hur¬ 
ried out to the dinner-table, and partook of violet 
soup, sweet-grass salad, chocolate,—made by 
mixing mud and water,'—and many other such 
delicacies. Then trays were made from big 
leaves and carried to the two invalids, who were 
now allowed to recline in the hammocks under 
the “trees.” 


56 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Gracious,” said Alice, looking at her prize 
clock that was wagging its pendulum merrily, 
“it’s almost time for them to go fishing or the fish 
won’t bite.” So, making rods from pieces of 
twig, to which were fastened bits of thread 
from Mother’s embroidery bag, the doll-families 
hastened to the river to catch a fish for dinner. 

“My Clementine,” said Jeannette, naming the 
invalid doll, “feels that a bit of fresh salmon with 
egg sauce would tempt her appetite for dinner.” 

“So does Muriel,” declared Alice, tenderly 
tucking the poor child under a heavy quilt. 
“She feels very low, and I think salmon is the 
only thing that will save her. She’s getting 
worse and worse by the minute.” 

“Put hot-water bags at her head, and ice-bags 
at her feet,” ordered Dr. Jeannette Eaton hastily; 
“and I’ll catch a salmon and she may eat it all for 
dinner.” 

“Is your poor itty dolly derry derry sick?” 
asked Cubby, making a grieved lip and unwind¬ 
ing yards of Mother’s white cotton in her 
earnestness. 

“She’ll be better soon,” said Wiggles cheer- 


CUBBY'S ADVENTURE 57 

fully. “She has the ‘epizoodic’ and needs a 
specialist’s care. Don’t you want to play with 
us, and with your cunning little tent?” 

“No,” replied Evelyn positively. “I wants 
to pick some booful flowers up dere,” pointing 
with a dimpled finger at the vivid azalea bushes 
at the edge of the woods where they had eaten 
their luncheon. 

“All right, Baby,” said Mother; “you pick me 
a big bunch of flowers, only don’t go any far¬ 
ther away than where we had our lunch.” 

So Cubby scurried off in delight, and the other 
children dropped dolls and fishing-lines when 
told by Aunt Elsie to choose a turtle apiece from 
the stream for a turtle race. 

“What’s a turtle race?” demanded the children 
in a breath, pelting down the bank in search of 
the turtles that inhabited the crystal-clear brook. 

“I just know it will be fun,” said Alice hap¬ 
pily, bearing her dripping captive toward Aunt 
Elsie. “What shall I do with this, now that I 
have it?” 

“Put it on the ‘race-track,’ ” replied Aunt Elsie, 
laughing at the curiosity shown in each eager 


58 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

face, as she pointed to a space on the ground 
marked with two chalk-lines. 

“Are these race-horses?” inquired Jeannette, 
much diverted at this novel idea. “Mine’s a 
blue-ribbon racer, named ‘Rubber,’ and he’s a 
long-distance champion.” 

“Mine is ‘petty-greed,’ ” announced Wiggles, 
who hadn’t the slightest idea what she was talk¬ 
ing about. “His name is ‘Elastic,’ and he’s won 
fourteen gold cups, all hand-engraved.” 

“My, he is some racer,” laughed Grandma. 
“What is the name of your race-turtle, Marion?” 

Marion placed her pet gingerly on the 
ground. “Let me see,” she said undecidedly. 
“His name is ‘Marmaduke,’ and his picture ap¬ 
pears in all the best papers and magazines. 
He’s particularly noted for his speed, and has 
been nicknamed ‘Lightning.’ ” 

“He looks it,” giggled Alice. “My turtle’s 
name is ‘Whiz.’ Note his jaunty air and his 
speaking countenance. He’s a high jumper, 
and is confident of victory in this race.” 

“On the line,” said Aunt Elsie, “ready, set,— 
go!” 


CUBBY’S ADVENTURE 59 

It was the funniest race of all. Wiggle’s 
turtle absolutely refused to move at all, and 
Alice’s racer strayed far from the track. So 
Aunt Elsie declared that Marion’s “Marma- 
duke” was the winner of the first prize, with 
“Rubber” a close second. And after the “race¬ 
horses” had been returned to the stream, two 
more interesting tissue-paper packages ap¬ 
peared, and were unwrapped with many “ohs” 
and “ahs” of delight. 

Jeannette received a carpet-sweeper not much 
bigger than her little finger, while Marion 
beamed with pleasure at beholding a tiny doll- 
carriage, so small that it sat on the palm of her 
hand, and held with comfort the “littlest 
camper.” 

“Isn’t it just too scrumptious to think each 
one of us won a prize?” smiled Wiggles. “Now 
we can fix up our doll-houses, and all the dolls 
may take music-lessons on my little piano.” 

Cubby had appeared several times among the 
azalea bushes with her chubby hands full of blos¬ 
soms, and had brought down a few for Grandma 
before returning for a “dreat big bunch.” Be- 


6 o 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


ing of a venturesome disposition, she started on 
an exploring trip by herself, dragging after her 
Auntie’s scarlet “payasol,” as she called Aunt 
Elsie’s sunshade, for which she cherished a deep 
affection. 

There were so many things to look at as she 
trudged along. It was so exciting to chase the 
yellow butterflies, and dart after the sleek gray 
squirrels that kept chattering at her from the 
tree-tops. 

“ ’Spect those ‘quids’ are glad to see me,” she 
murmured to herself as she wandered farther 
and farther away on her quick little feet into 
the meadows on the other side of the grove, 
where she had a faint recollection of finding 
some wild strawberries one day when walking 
with her daddy. 

Naughty little Cubby. Well enough she 
knew that Mother and the rest believed her safely 
gathering wild blossoms; but she said to herself, 
“I wants to pick some ‘trawberries’ for my 
dear ‘Mayma’ (Grandma).” Over the shallow 
brook and through the pasture-bars she crept, 
pulling Auntie’s sunshade along behind her. 


CUBBY’S ADVENTURE 


61 

“Sun’s hot,” said she aloud, mopping off her 
flushed face with the hem of her frock. “Dess 
I’ll put the booful payasol over me.” 

Strange to relate, her strong little fingers 
actually snapped it into place, and much pleased 
with herself, and nearly hidden by its scarlet 
folds, she trotted on. Finding a few straw¬ 
berries, she decided they were so good that she 
would eat them herself, wiping the red stains on 
her clean white frock, and adding a few smears 
to her rosy face. “Muvver’ll be s’prised,” she 
tried to soothe her uneasy conscience, “when she 
sees my “trawberries.’ ” She fully expected to 
pick many more to take back with her, but they 
proved so tempting that she quickly popped each 
one into her own eager mouth as soon as 
plucked. 

Now Farmer Brown owned the meadow 
where she had wandered, and in it, as grown¬ 
ups could well see, by the big signs fastened 
to the trees, was a big savage bull. 

Little cared Cubby for boards with “Beware 
of the Bull” on them. She was too small to read, 
anyway, and so she puffed along under the big 


62 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

parasol, getting nearer and nearer the vicious 
animal. 

“Just like a lady, I is,” she said to herself, toss¬ 
ing her curls with glee. “Wish somebody could 
see me with this booful big payasol over me. 
Guess Billy wouldn’t say then, ‘Look at itty Miss 
Snippets under my feets.’ No indeedy. He’d 
think, ‘My, what a dreat big gurrl is a-coming 
along; must be Jet.’ ” “Jet” was the nearest that 
Cubby could get to “Jeannette.” “Then my 
Pampa and Mayma (Grandpa and Grandma) 
wouldn’t say, ‘If here isn’t babykins.’ ”—For it 
was a sad blow to the little one to be so much 
younger than her greatly admired sisters, and she 
always wanted to tag along with them, and do 
everything they did, regardless of the difference 
in age. 

But no one was in sight to admire the vain 
baby, until under a gnarled apple-tree Cubby 
spied the bull. 

“There,” said she with pleasure, “is a nice 
bossy cow. Guess I’ll show bossy my payasol.” 

Nearer and nearer she crept, singing “Hey! 
diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, the cow 


CUBBY’S ADVENTURE 63 

jumped over the moon,” and wondering in her 
baby mind if this could be the very cow that 
jumped. 

“See my booful red payasol, bossy,” she mur¬ 
mured sweetly, poking the sunshade under the 
bull’s nose. 

It was lucky for wee Evelyn that she sang, for 
the clear sweet voice attracted the attention of a 
young man, who, fishing-rod in hand, was just 
passing the pasture-bars. What he heard was 
Cubby saying, “Bossy, pretty bossy, just look at 
my booful red payasol,” and then he saw the 
golden-haired baby wave a brilliant scarlet sun¬ 
shade before the infuriated bull. 

How Robert Burnett ever leaped the pasture- 
bars and seized the indignant child, he does not 
remember. Fortunately she dropped the par¬ 
asol and it flew in the bull’s face, or else I guess 
the wee Cubby bear would have been gored to 
death. 

Back under the willow-tree the turtle-race had 
proved so absorbing that Cubby’s continued 
absence had not been noticed, until several calls 
had failed to bring the usual response. At first 


64 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

they all thought that she was mischievously 
playing hide-and-seek, but when no baby could 
be found, a search began in earnest, and the en¬ 
tire picnic-party arrived at the pasture-bars in 
time to see the rescue. 

It was a white and trembling young man that 
placed an angry youngster in Mother’s arms, 
for all Cubby would say was, “My booful pay- 
asol, all lost!” 

“Oh, my baby, my baby!” cried Mother and 
Grandma in a breath, while Aunt Elsie cried as 
she looked in the field and saw the wreck of what 
had once been a parasol, and thought of what 
might have happened to the wee bear. 

Of course they could not even begin to thank 
Mr. Burnett, and he was cordially invited to din¬ 
ner that evening, where Daddy and all the others 
tried to tell him a little of their appreciation, and 
thank him over and over for their darling’s life. 

Cubby was the calmest of them all, but ab¬ 
solutely refused to make friends with her rescuer, 
associating him in her mind with the loss of her 
beloved sunshade, and the scolding she had re¬ 
ceived for running away. 


CUBBY’S ADVENTURE 65 

“Hasn’t it been the greatest day?” said Wig¬ 
gles, as she consumed enormous quantities of 
bread and butter. “First, we had such a lovely 
time, and then we had such a scary time. Why, 
it was like a thrilling movie, where the hero res¬ 
cues somebody.” 

They all shouted at Wiggles’ description, al¬ 
though Mr. Burnett blushed. 

“You do me too much honor, Miss Wig¬ 
gles,” he said gravely. “Never in my wildest 
dreams have I imagined being compared to a 
moving-picture hero.” 

“Well,” said Polly Wiggles honestly, “you’re 
so tall, you do look something like one. Only 
it ought to have been Aunt Elsie you rescued in¬ 
stead of Cubby, ’cause she’s a young lady, and 
then you could have married her and I would 
have been flower-girl at the wedding, just like 
they do in the movies,” she finished in one breath. 

“And I don’t see,” she told Jet indignantly, as 
they were busy undressing for bed a few minutes 
later, “why they rushed us off to bed in such a 
hurry. Do you?” 


CHAPTER FIVE 


LIMERICKS 


OUR little maids were walking home 
from school. At least, three were 
walking sedately, while Elizabeth 
chased after first one thing and then another, 
skipping back to her companions every few min¬ 
utes to join in the conversation. 

“Oh, it’s perfectly dreadful,” cried Alice, her 
face all puckered up in a snarl, and her usually 
sunny blue eyes stormy, “to make every single 
child in school from third grade up, write a 
verse; we’re too little; I simply cant.” 

“Why, Alice, it’s lots of fun,” said Wiggles 
earnestly. “I often do it just to ’muse myself. 
Just rhyme it up in your head, and then write it 
down. We have two weeks to write it in, and 
Miss Mason said it only had to be four lines, al¬ 
though it could be as much longer as we wished.” 


66 



LIMERICKS 67 

“Two years would be too short for me, and 
four lines just four lines too long,” laughed 
Marion. “How you can say it’s easy, I don’t 
see. My goodness, girls, it’s dreadfully hot. 
Let’s sit down here on the grass and cool off, be¬ 
fore we go any farther. I’m sizzling.” 

Down dropped all four girls, under the shade 
of a big maple-tree. 

“Let’s hear one of your poems, Wiggles,” 
asked Alice. “Maybe it will help us along. I 
don’t even know how to start one.” 

“Well, wait a minute till I think,” said Polly 
Wiggles. Thinking with Elizabeth never 
meant sitting still, so, to “clear her brain,” as she 
explained it, she spun round and round on one 
toe. 

“Do please stop,” implored Jet. “You make 
me dizzy to watch you. How can you be so 
lively on this hot day? Seems as if I’d melt.” 

“I’ve remembered it now, anyway,” cried the 
budding authoress. “It’s called ‘At the Zoo,’ 
and of course it isn’t a really truly poem like 
grown-ups make; it’s just a verse!” With a 
loud “Ahem,” to clear her throat, she began: 


68 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


“One day I went a-walking, 

A-walking in the zoo, 

And closely by my side I took 
My little children two. 

The day was bright and sunny, 

And everything was fair; 

We saw the bears, the snakes, and birds. 

Also the lion’s lair. 

We heard a dreadful roaring, 

And o’er the ground there came 
A great big yellow lion, 

Shaking his yellow mane. 

My heart did not stop beating, 

As the lion onward flew, 

For it was our circus lion, 

And I was their kangaroo.” 

All this was spoken without pause or punctua¬ 
tion, and so rapidly that the authoress was de¬ 
cidedly out of breath when she finished. 

“There,” she exclaimed with an air of relief, 
“I didn’t forget any of it, and I was so afraid I 
would.” 


LIMERICKS 


69 

“Wiggles, how do you do it?” inquired prac¬ 
tical Marion in despair. “That was perfectly 
beautiful. When you grow up are you going 
to be an authoress?” 

“Either that, or an editor. I haven’t decided 
which,” was the modest reply. “I never have 
had all the books I wanted to read, and just think 
what fun an editor must have, with nothing to 
do all day long but sit with his feet on top of a 
mahogany desk and read, and read, and smoke 
big black cigars.” 

“Will you smoke cigars?” asked Jeannette, 
much shocked. “I don’t think you can be an 
editor, anyway, Wogs, for I’m ’most sure it’s 
something only men can be, like ministers and, 
—and garbage-men,” she finished wildly, grop¬ 
ing about in her mind for a suitable comparison. 

“Well,” retorted her sister undaunted, “then 
I’m going to ’stablish a ‘presidents.’ ” 

“A what?” 

“A ‘presidents.’ That’s what daddy said the 
other night, and when I asked him what it meant, 
he said ‘to start a new custom.’ ” 


70 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“I remember, but it didn’t sound just like that 
to me,” returned Jeannette, wrinkling her brow 
in thought. 

“For pity’s sake,” interrupted Marion, who 
had mentally been going over the remarkable 
“poem” again, “how could you tell what a kan¬ 
garoo felt like? I couldn’t.” 

“Pooh, just as easy,” answered Wiggles much 
surprised. “Just imagine! Like we pretend, 
when we dress up in Mother’s clothes, that we’re 
grown-up young ladies. The teacher always 
says, ‘Put yourself in the place of the one you’re 
writing about,’ so I did, and felt just as ‘kan- 
garooey’ as could be. I made that up in bed last 
night. I often do.” 

It was not to be wondered at that Wiggles had 
a fondness for rhyme, without, as Mother laugh¬ 
ingly remarked, “rhyme or reason.” Aunt 
Elsie was always writing limericks about in¬ 
cidents or places, and Mother was almost as bad; 
while even Daddy had been known to chant 
extemporaneously, after a particularly good 
dinner: 


LIMERICKS 71 

“I am replete, 

Filled to my feet, 

With things I like the best to eat.” 

So when the news of the poems was broken to 
the family a short time later, it did not horrify 
them as it might have done. Instead, Grandma 
said comfortably: “Why not have a limerick 
contest now? It will be lots of fun, and prac¬ 
tice for you children, too. Here come Dick and 
Billy. I suppose they’re in it, too, so somebody 
get paper and pencils.” 

Dick was in the last half of the fifth year, and 
Billy in the sixth. Billy had been out of school 
the year before with a severe attack of diphtheria. 
They both shared the family weakness for 
rhyme, and there is still told a story of Dick’s 
baby days. When he was about four years old, 
his mother took him marketing one morning, 
and the clerk who waited upon them was named 
Dean. That night at dinner, Dick piped up, 
“Mother, I made a piece of ‘poultry’ to-day ’bout 
that man.” Upon much urging, he recited his 
‘poultry,’ which was: 


72 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


“Mr. Dean, 

Ate a bean.” 

Elizabeth and Jeannette rushed indoors for 
writing materials, and were back by the time all 
were seated on the comfortable porch. 

It was funny to see the different ways they 
went about it. Mother, Grandma, and Aunt 
Elsie comfortably sat in their wicker porch- 
chairs, waiting for an inspiration; but Wiggles 
curled up on the steps and chewed hard at her 
pencil until genius apparently burned, and she 
scribbled away industriously. 

Dick and Billy withdrew with many snorts 
and giggles to a corner, where they mysteriously 
doubled up with laughter every few minutes, 
consuming Jeannette with curiosity. 

Poor Alice and Marion wriggled uncom¬ 
fortably, for though they knew what limericks 
were, “it was much easier,” as Marion expressed 
it, “to laugh at somebody else’s than write your 
own.” 

“I just know those awful boys are up to some 
mischief,” cried Jeannette, glancing over at the 


LIMERICKS 73 

corner where the lads were apparently diligent 
little scribes. 

“Thank goodness, I am through,” sighed 
Alice,” but I am ashamed to read it.” 

“Well, my dear,” said Grandmother Carr en¬ 
couragingly, “we can’t all do the same things 
well, most fortunately, or this would be a queer 
old world. Elizabeth and Jeannette both have 
the rhyming habit, but neither is as clever with 
her fingers as you and Marion, and could not 
begin to make such a pretty scarf as Marion 
knitted for her doll, or the tiny sweater you 
finished.” 

So the little girls quite cheered up, and drew 
their chairs up in a big circle with the oth¬ 
ers. Then, beginning with Grandma as old¬ 
est, each one read aloud the limerick she had 
made. 

“There are four little girls living near, 

Who’ve been playmates for many a year, 
They’re always together, 

No matter what weather, 

And to us they are all very dear,” 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


74 

read Grandma, smiling at the four little friends, 
who looked much pleased. 

“Oh, Mrs. Carr, won’t you please write that 
out for us to put in our scrap-books?” asked 
Marion, while Wiggles rushed over to give her 
beloved grandmother a grizzly-bear hug. For 
all the girls kept big scrap-books, which they 
called “memory books,” and in which they 
pasted their valentines, and souvenirs from 
parties and places where they had been. 

“Why not put all the limericks in?” suggested 
Mother. “I’m sure they’ll be fun to look at and 
read next winter when we’re back in the city.” 

The girls all thought that would be a lovely 
plan, so, the question being settled satisfactorily, 
Mother read aloud from her slip of paper: 

“A boy I know well who’s named Billy, 

Ate ‘hot dogs’ one morning, until he 
Felt dreadfully then, 

And said, ‘Never again; 

I think I was oh, very silly.’ ” 

How the little girls laughed, and so did Bill, 
although he turned rather red at the recollection. 

It seems that a much older boy dared Bill to 


LIMERICKS 75 

eat a dozen and a half “hot dogs,” and volun¬ 
teered to pay for them if all were consumed. 
Nothing loath, and not stopping to think of the 
after-consequences, Bill forced them down, 
every one. The first six were fine, the next six 
an effort, and to eat the remaining “dogs” proved 
to be hard work. 

However, Bill was triumphant. “I won the 
dare,” said he. But the other boy “reneged,” 
as Bill put it, and refused to pay, so it was a sick 
and sorrowful William that told the tale to Dad. 

And then, to make bad matters worse, Billy’s 
father said that he must earn the money himself 
to pay for them, and it would teach him to be 
more careful in the future. Poor Billy. Not 
only did the debt hang over his head, but his 
overworked stomach rebelled, and it was several 
days before he could get to work cutting grass, 
raking lawns, and running errands until the 
necessary amount had been made. But ever 
since he had been more careful about looking 
before he leaped. 

A mischievous smile crinkled up Aunt Elsie’s 
blue eyes, as she began: 


76 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“If there’s water, she’ll surely fall in, 

But she always comes up with a grin; 

Then little Miss Wiggle, 

Will say with a giggle, 

‘Why can’t I be proper and prim?’ ” 

Polly Wiggles laughed so much at this true 
description of her propensities for mishaps, that 
she doubled up on the railing where she had 
been perched, and fell head over heels, being 
rescued by Dick, who had enough presence of 
mind to grab fast to her slippers and hang on un¬ 
til she could be pulled up. 

Of course she lost her hair ribbon and tore a 
big hole in her dotted swiss dress, but those were 
everyday mishaps. 

As soon as the confusion had died down, 
Jeannette read aloud: 

“Who always is playing a trick? 

Who always says, ‘Gimme a lick?’ 

Who loves to pull curls, 

When he sees little girls? 

Of course it’s our cousin,—it’s Dick.” 

How everybody laughed, Dick as much as 
any one, for the ‘Gimme a lick’ sounded so like 


LIMERICKS 77 

his favorite expression when candy was any¬ 
where around, or cake-making was going on. 

“Mine’s awful,” said Marion hopelessly. 
“The lines seem to sound so snarly, but it just 
popped into my head.” 

“A girl named Jeannette, from the city, 

Brought a pussy cat, furry and pretty, 

He wears boots on his paws, 

To conceal his sharp claws; 

Puss-in-Boots is the name of this kitty.” 

“Boots wishes me to say,” cried Aunt Elsie, 
catching up the furry pet, “that he feels greatly 
honored by having a real poem written about 
him.” 

“I think it extremely clever,” approved 
Mother, “and the lines don’t sound snarly at all. 
It’s hard to do, too, until you practise a few 
times.” 

“Don’t lose that, Marion. I want it for my 
scrap-book,” put in Jeannette. “I’ll paste a big 
snapshot of Boots right above it.” 

“Oh,” giggled Wiggles; “if that were lost, it 
would truly be a ‘cat-astrophe.’ ” 


78 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Cool her fevered brow,” groaned Billy. 
“Too much knowledge has gone to her head.” 

“Ssh,” said Wiggles; “it’s Alice’s turn.” 
The boys, for some mysterious reason, had in¬ 
sisted on reading their limericks last. 

“Here comes Evelyn, just in time,” laughed 
Alice, as the wee bear appeared, fresh from 
Nurse Hannah’s hands, and ran with a crow of 
delight to sit on Grandma’s lap. “I wrote about 
Cubby,” went on Alice, picking up her much- 
crossed and re-crossed slip of paper. 

So Cubby listened intently as Alice read: 

“The wee bear, although very small, 

Hopes soon to grow up big and tall, 

But plump, round, and chubby, 

We best like our Cubby, 

Who’s petted by one and by all.” 

“That’s true,” laughed Grandma, hugging 
the small piece of mischief. “It’s a wonder she 
isn’t entirely spoiled.” 

“Now, Woggsie, it’s up to you,” called the 
boys. So with a grin that brought big dimples 
into her cheeks, Wiggles declaimed: 


LIMERICKS 79 

“Who said, ‘Picnics for girls are no fun?’ 
Saying, ‘Oh, no, indeed, we won’t come;’ 

Until hearing of ‘eats,’ 

Cake and candy and sweets, 

You could not keep them off with a gun.” 

“No fair! no fair! Who has been telling 
tales?” cried Dick, looking from one laughing 
face to another. 

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed Cubby, who hadn’t the 
slightest idea what the joke was about. The 
four girls shook at the expression on the boys’ 
faces, for they had all heard the joke about the 
picnic. The lads had scoffed at it as “girl stuff” 
until they heard of the sandwiches and cakes that 
Grandmother and Mother were preparing. 
Then they hastened to Aunt Elsie and suggested 
making the canoes, and hanging around to 
“help,” to which she gave her permission with 
a quiet smile, but with a roguish twinkle in her 
eye. 

“Just you wait, Miss Polly-Wog-Wiggles,” 
promised Dick as he tweaked her curly mop. 
And with a grimace he commenced in a high 
falsetto voice: 


8 o 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Who sticks her nose up with a stare, 

And flounces by with such an air, 

Because for boys she does not care? 
WIGGLES.” 

Here Billy joined in: 

“Who says, ‘They make the loudest noise, 

And muss up things and break our toys? 

Oh, aren’t we glad that we’re not boys!’ 

JET. 

“Who says, ‘We’ve nicer times, it’s true, 

When there’s just girls. I think, don’t you, 

That boys should live out in a zoo?’ 

ALICE. 

“Who says, ‘Why will they call me “Red,” 

Or “Carrots,” when the teacher said, 

That I had “Tissue” hair, instead?’ 

MARION.” 

Here Dick resumed the tale, while the appre¬ 
ciative audience wiped away tears of mirth. 

“What girl was it who ran away, 

With Auntie’s parasol so gay, 

And tried to get a bull to play? 

CUBBY. 


LIMERICKS 81 

“Who packed up sandwiches galore, 

And through the woods the hamper bore? 

Why, Grandma, Mother, and one more, 

AUNT ELSIE.” 

“Only,” as Dick explained in an aside, “it was 
really James who carried the hamper, but that 
was poetic license.” 

Then together, in sepulchral tones, both boys 
burst out: 

“Who nobly toiled and worked away, 

Acquiring calloused hands that day, 

That you have tents and boats for play? 

THOSE DISGUSTABLE BOYS.” 

“Oh, it was splendid,” cried the girls, clap¬ 
ping their hands, when the boys, with a deep 
bow, had taken their seats, and Grandma, 
Mother, and Aunt Elsie were wiping their 
flushed and laughing faces. “But how did you 
know we said those things?” 

“Why, Dick was on the other side of the 
stream, behind the bushes, and you were so busy 
gabbling away, and talked so loudly, that he 


82 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

heard it all. He ran on ahead, and beat you to 
the Point by about five minutes.” 

“Now will you be good?” demanded Billy 
with a ferocious frown at Jet, as he made a grab 
for her long curls, and nearly fell off the front 
steps as she danced tantalizingly out of his 
reach. 

“ ‘Listeners never hear good of themselves,’ ” 
quoted Wiggles provokingly as she circled 
warily around Billy, seeking a chance to grab 
his fountain-pen and run. 

“No, you don’t, young lady,” said Dick, 
creeping up from the back and pinioning her 
hands behind her back. “Little girls should 
never-” 

“Never what?” asked Wiggles coolly, freeing 
herself like a particularly agile eel, and taking 
Dick’s necktie with her in the bargain. 

“Truce, truce,” cried Marion, waving her 
handkerchief as a white flag. “It’s getting late 
and I have to go home, but it was lots of fun.” 

“Let’s make up limericks some time again,” 
suggested Alice enthusiastically, and she and 
Marion said good-by until the next day. They 



LIMERICKS 83 

ran down the lilac-bordered path, stopping at 
the gate to wave, while the boys followed after 
them, chanting at the top of their voices: 

“Maidens dear, we hate to leave you, 

Hate to say a fond farewell, 

But we’re honest,—can’t deceive you, 

We can hear our dinner-bell. 

Hear it calling, ‘Dick, you sinner, 

Billy, too, come home for tea.’ 

There’s a lemon pie for dinner, 

And ‘I hear it calling me.’ ” 

“Didn’t we have fun?” said Wiggles, settling 
comfortably in the porch-hammock, when 
Daddy’s voice called from the house,” Better 
scurry, kidlets, and wash your hands unless you 
want to be late; and, though no lemon pie is 
‘calling us,’ there are fried chicken and hot waf¬ 
fles for dinner.” 

So the little girls scurried. 


CHAPTER SIX 

TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 


P OLLY WIGGLES and Jeannette looked 
with pleasure at the two pretty dresses 
that were spread on the bed in the 
Forget-me-not room. 

“Are we to wear our new dresses this after¬ 
noon, Mother?” inquired Jeannette; for the two 
little girls had been invited by their mother’s old 
friend, Miss Helen, to take afternoon tea at her 
attractive white cottage about three quarters of 
a mile from The Lilacs. Miss Helen Cole was 
principal of the school at Meadowbrook, and 
was always planning delightful surprises for the 
children, so they both were agog with impa¬ 
tience to find out what the “something” was that 
Miss Llelen had whispered she wanted to talk 
over with them. 

“I thought it would be a good time to wear 
them,” answered Mother, deftly slipping the 

84 


TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 85 

rose-pink organdie over Wiggles’ curly head as 
she spoke. “Stand still, child, so I can button 
you up.” 

Jeannette’s daffodil-yellow organdie was fas¬ 
tened next, and big pink-and-yellow butterfly 
bows were tied to the curly tresses. Then 
Mother kissed them good-by with a few final 
words of caution. “ Don’t forget to thank Miss 
Helen for your pleasant afternoon, and do be 
careful of your frocks.” 

The sisters fluttered downstairs with a 
grown-up air of importance which was in¬ 
creased by Cubby’s wail of “Me wants to go, 
too.” 

“You’re too little,” explained Jeannette 
kindly, stooping to kiss the rosy face; “and, be¬ 
sides, you are going out with Mother and 
Grandma in the car.” 

“Little bits of wee bears don’t go to afternoon 
teas,” added Wiggles, wiping away the big tears 
that slid down Evelyn’s cheeks. “Only big 
girls and young ladies go to teas, but we’ll tell 
you all about it when we come home.” 

“I are a big, big gurrl,” gulped Cubby, heart- 


86 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

broken at being left behind by her adored sisters. 

“Who wants tea, anyway?” inquired Aunt 
Elsie, coming out of the music-room to find out 
what all the sobbing was about. “Cubby and 
I are going to have something much better than 
old tea,” she told them. “We’re going to have 
ice-cream while we’re out this afternoon.” 

Cubby’s woe-begone face brightened as if by 
magic, while Aunt Elsie hastily waved the girls 
out of the front door. 

“Skip along before she starts crying again,” 
she advised them hastily, and hurried back to 
talk over with the excited wee bear the fascina¬ 
ting possibility of having “choglit” ice-cream, 
or “striped pink and white.” 

“I’m certainly going to be careful to-day,” 
Wiggles confided earnestly to Jeannette as they 
skipped along the pretty woodland path that led 
them to Miss Helen’s. “Mother’s taken so 
much trouble to make these dresses for us, that 
I’m going to be very careful about sitting on 
anything, or falling into anything, or tearing 
myself on anything, see if I don’t.” 

“You do have the worst luck,” Jeannette ac- 


TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 87 

knowledged, “like that time we went with 
Mother to see ‘Cinderella’ at the movies, and 
you put your good hat on the seat next to us-” 

“And a fat woman came and sat plump on it,” 
giggled Wiggles; “and I was so interested in the 
picture that I never noticed until after it was 
over, and then it was as flat as a pancake. Well, 
you just see this afternoon. I’m going to go 
home just as clean as when I started.” 

Alas, none of us can tell the march of events, 
and I am afraid if Jeannette and Elizabeth could 
have foreseen how the afternoon was going to 
terminate, they would have turned about and 
run back home again. 

Miss Helen greeted the little girls warmly, 
and soon they were comfortably seated on the 
wide porch, chattering gayly with Mrs. Cole 
about the dolls’ bathing-picnic. 

“Do you know,” said Miss Helen, “I asked 
you girls over to-day, especially to find out how 
you think the school children would enjoy a 
May-Day frolic, with Maypoles, a May Queen, 
and all the other pretty old customs?” 

“O goody, Miss Helen! Wouldn’t that be 



88 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

lovely,” exclaimed Wiggles and Jet in one voice. 

“Only,” added Jeannette sadly, “isn’t it too 
late? I thought May Day was the first of the 
month, and to-day is the middle.” 

“You’re right, Jeannette,” replied Miss 
Helen. “It always has been the first of May, 
but spring comes so late nowadays that the 
flowers and trees would hardly have been wide 
enough awake to help us by the first. Then it 
would have been far too cool to spend a whole 
day in the meadows wearing thin dresses, so I 
thought we could choose two weeks from to-day 
as our official May Day, and be sure of having 
it warm enough for both little girls and flowers.” 

“Would all the school be in it?” inquired 
Wiggles. 

“All the children that wanted to come,” re¬ 
plied Miss Helen. “I thought it might be fun 
to revive the old custom of May-baskets, and I 
wondered if you girls would like to help me 
make some to-day, to use as models to show to 
the school on Monday morning when I speak 
about the May frolic.” 

“We’d love to,” enthused the children, and 


TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 89 

Wiggles could not resist spinning around on 
one toe, “to let off steam.” 

“Did you and Mother ever make any when 
you were little girls?” inquired Jeannette, for 
Miss Helen and Mother had been schoolmates 
together at Meadowbrook years before, as 
Grandmother and Grandfather Carr had spent 
six or seven months of each year at The Lilacs 
ever since Mother’s baby days. 

“Yes, indeed, Jean and I always hung baskets 
on the door-knobs for each other. Here are the 
foundation frames that we will use to make the 
baskets on.” 

Miss Helen and her mother had cut out hun¬ 
dreds of cardboard basket-frames in prepara¬ 
tion, and these were to be placed in the corridors 
of the school, so that the children might take as 
many as they wished to cover. The work, of 
course, must be done at home. The teachers 
had volunteered to make the Maypoles, and each 
pupil that wished to be on one was to furnish a 
ribbon, any color desired, and these would be 
fastened to the poles. 

“I want to make a basket for Mother, and 


90 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Aunt Elsie, and Grandma, Jeannette, Marion, 
Alice, and Cubby, and—oh, lots more,” chat¬ 
tered Wiggles, checking them off on her fingers. 

“Suppose I give you three dozen basket- 
frames, assorted styles, to take home, and then 
you can divide with Marion and Alice and get 
as many more as you wish at any time. How 
would that do?” 

Both little girls agreed that would be splendid, 
and the basket-making started. 

Such beautiful crepe and tissue papers as 
Miss Helen had provided for them. All colors 
of the rainbow were there, as well as many books 
showing how to make every kind of basket im¬ 
aginable. 

“These books,” Miss Helen told them, “will 
be on my desk, and may be consulted at any time 
for ideas. I will furnish basket-frames for all 
the school, but the tissue paper the children must 
provide for themselves.” 

“There won’t be any trouble filling them,” 
said Wiggles, as her fingers snipped and folded 
busily, “for the wild flowers are just thick. All 


TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 91 

the May flowers are just ready to leave for the 
season, and all the June blossoms will just be 
coming in.” 

“But we wouldn’t have had many blossoms if 
we had planned it for the first of May.” said Miss 
Helen wisely. “These last two weeks have been 
exceptionally warm, and have just hurried 
things along. How do you like this?” 

“This” was a dainty yellow basket shaped like 
a daffodil blossom, with fluted petals and tiny 
touches of green. 

“Oh, Miss Helen, how pretty!” 

“That is for your mother,” said Miss Helen 
smiling. “And I am going to hang it myself 
May Day morning, with a pot of yellow jonquils 
inside.” 

The minutes flew as if by magic. It was such 
fun to see folds and twists of colored paper sud¬ 
denly bloom under one’s fingers; and they all 
had to stop and admire each basket as it was 
completed. It seemed only a second before 
Queenie, the colored maid, appeared to tell them 
that tea was ready. 


92 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Them suah is powahful handsome,” said she, 
flashing her white teeth in a broad smile at the 
two little girls, of whom she was very fond. 

With reluctant fingers Jeannette laid down 
her scissors, and Wiggles brushed the snips from 
her dress. 

By the stone wall, under a peach-tree that was 
covered with fragrant pink blossoms, a dainty 
little tea-table had been spread, simply inviting 
hungry little girls to eat. There were the white 
beaten biscuits at which Queenie excelled, so 
light you might think they would fly away. 
Tiny lettuce sandwiches, and marmalade sand¬ 
wiches, too, and stacks of golden-brown curly 
“leaf” cookies, smelling pleasantly of spice and 
other things good, decked each end of the table, 
while a rosy mound of Polly Wiggles’ favorite 
“squince” jelly, as she always called it, trembled 
temptingly on a sparkling glass dish. 

Then Queenie, her face all one broad grin, 
brought in bits of patties, filled to the brim with 
delicious creamed chicken, and, when these had 
disappeared to the last flaky crumb, there ap¬ 
peared tall crystal glasses heaped with custard 


TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 93 

ice-cream that was almost smothered with lus¬ 
cious scarlet strawberries. 

It was such fun to eat, with pink peach- 
blossoms showering petals upon them, and blue¬ 
birds and saucy jays screaming at them from 
near-by trees, attracted by the thought of 
crumbs. 

“I almost forgot to tell you about the choosing 
of the May King and Queen,” said Miss Helen 
suddenly, as the little girls nibbled at their cook¬ 
ies and admired the tiny candy-filled May- 
baskets of apple-blossoms that had been at each 
place as favors. 

Jeannette and Polly Wiggles looked up ex¬ 
pectantly. 

“We are going to choose them by vote,” con¬ 
tinued Miss Helen smiling at the eager faces. 
“Next Friday each pupil at school will cast two 
votes, one for King and one for Queen. Then 
the boy and girl with the greatest number of 
votes will have the honor of officiating at the 
May-Day Revels.” 

“That’s the only fair way,” agreed Mrs. Cole. 
“Otherwise there would be bickering and heart- 


94 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

burnings. Will the May-Day Majesties have 
any attendants?” 

“Yes, indeed. The King will choose four 
attendants,—a Herald and three Couriers. 
The Couriers will remain with him, and the 
Herald will ride before the line of march, blow¬ 
ing a trumpet, and announcing the King’s ap¬ 
proach.” 

“Won’t that look pretty?” cried Jeannette. 
“Seems as if I could hardly wait.” 

“Then,” continued Miss Helen, “the Queen 
will select four Maids of Honor, and, like Jean¬ 
nette, I think it will be a very pretty sight. Gra¬ 
cious, can that be thunder, so early in the 
season?” 

It certainly was a distant threatening 
grumble. 

“Seems to me it’s getting dark awfully early,” 
said Wiggles in much surprise. “Goodness, Jet, 
it’s six o’clock by Miss Helen’s wrist-watch.” 

Miss Helen was much astonished at the late¬ 
ness of the hour, and reproached herself for not 
having noticed before the lengthening shadows 
and far-distant rumble. The little girls had 


TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 95 

told her upon their arrival that Grandma and 
Mother, Aunt Elsie and Cubby, had gone with 
the automobile into the city, and would not be 
back until dinner-time, so she knew there was no 
likelihood of James coming for them with the 
car. 

“We didn’t mean to stay so late, but it was 
’cause we had such a lovely time,” said Wiggles 
ingeniously as she kissed Mrs. Cole and Miss 
Helen good-by, and tucked the bundle of basket- 
frames under her arm. 

“I don’t like to have you two little girls take 
that long walk through the woods alone,” said 
Miss Helen in a troubled voice, with a glance 
at the dark sky. 

“We’ll be all right, truly,” smiled Jeannette. 
“Thunder-storms don’t usually amount to much 
so early in the spring, and we’ll just scurry along 
and be home in a twinkling.” 

“Don’t take the woodland path,” advised Mrs. 
Cole, “and then you’ll surely be all right. Go 
round by the road instead. It’s only half the 
distance that way, even if it is dusty, and there is 
no glaring sun to annoy you now. It does look 


96 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

very much like a bad storm to me, but it won’t 
come yet awhile.” 

So with a parting wave of farewell, the sisters 
ran down the path, kinky black and long brown 
curls flying as they scampered along. 

Now there were two ways of returning to The 
Lilacs. About five minutes’ walk from M'iss 
Helen’s the road forked, one way leading 
through the woods, and the other along the high¬ 
way. The highway was much the shorter route 
home, for it was the road used by the farmers 
and truckmen, and was well bordered by farm¬ 
houses and barns. The woodland path, by 
which the children had gone to Miss Helen’s in 
the early afternoon, was a long three-quarters of 
a mile, but it was so cool and shady, in contrast 
to the dusty, glaring highway, that the children 
greatly preferred it, especially on such a warm 
day. Now, as they started rapidly down the 
highway as Mrs. Cole had suggested, Wiggles 
stopped suddenly. 

“Oh, I forgot, Jet; we can’t go this way after 
all. Don’t you remember that Daddy told us 
there was a regular epidemic of scarlet fever all 


TEA AT MISS HELEN’S 97 

along here, and said until he told us differently 
we couldn’t use any but the woodland path?” 

“Sure enough,” said Jeannette, stopping short 
to wipe her flushed and overheated face. 
“Goodness, isn’t it dreadfully hot all of a sud¬ 
den? I had forgotten all about it, Wiggles. I 
remember now that he said that eight of the 
houses were quarantined. Isn’t it too bad, for 
I’m so afraid we’ll get caught in the rain if we 
take the long way home. Just look at that sky.” 

Heavy thunder-caps entirely concealed the 
blue, and bright flashes of lightning went zig¬ 
zagging across the heavens, while the low steady 
rumble of thunder was coming nearer and 
nearer. 

“It does look bad,” said Wiggles, “but it 
usually takes a long time to blow up, so let’s 
scurry”; and two pairs of white-stockinged legs 
went flashing down the narrow path that led into 
the woods. 

How dark it was! The overhanging trees 
completely shut out the little remaining light, 
and the path was too narrow for them to run 
rapidly. 


98 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Everything looked so changed. When they 
had gone through in the early afternoon, stray¬ 
ing sunbeams had dappled leaves and tree- 
trunks with patches of golden light, and the slen¬ 
der white birches nodded and swayed in the gen¬ 
tle breeze. Then they had stopped to admire 
the huge feathery ferns, and to gather a few del¬ 
icate wind-flowers that peeped through the 
grasses like tiny pink stars. Bright-eyed chip¬ 
munks had stared at them with beady black eyes, 
and chattered angrily when they came too near, 
disappearing up the tree-trunks like streaks of 
brown, and scolding shrilly from the branches 
overhead. Friendly gray squirrels had poked 
inquisitive heads through the green leaves, and 
scampered from branch to branch and tree to 
tree in a riotous game of tag. 

Now bushes slapped angrily in their faces, 
and a frightened little rabbit scuttled in the bush, 
rushing to his bunny home before the storm 
broke; and a slippery snake wriggled across the 
path, as anxious to get out of their way as they 
were to have him. 

And all the while it grew darker and darker. 


CHAPTER SEVEN 


OUT IN THE STORM 



T EITHER of the children had ever 
feared electric storms, and had, in¬ 
deed, rather enjoyed the majesty and 
grandeur of them. But being alone in a dark 
wood, when the thunder was growling and the 
vivid forks of lightning flashed across the sky, 
was vastly different from admiring the coming 
storm safely from their own cozy home. 

They pelted along as fast as the curving path 
would allow, their hearts pounding with excite¬ 
ment and the rapid pace. 

“It’s raining already,” cried Polly Wiggles in 
alarm, as a drop spattered on her cheek and 
was rapidly followed by another. “Oh, our or¬ 
gandie dresses!” 

Oh, the organdie dresses indeed, for it was 
raining hard, and had been for several minutes, 
but the trees had proved a protection. 

“Oh, Wiggles, I’m scared!” quavered Jean- 


99 


t) 

» 


J 




£ 




100 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

nette at a particularly loud clap of thunder. 
“There isn’t a house we can go in until we reach 
the end of the woods, and Daddy always says 
that a forest is the worst place to be in an electric 
storm, as so many trees are struck. Whatever 
shall we do?” 

“We can’t do anything,” responded Polly 
Wiggles in suspiciously shaky tones. “It’s as 
black as a pocket, and I can hardly see you, so 
we wouldn’t dare branch off anywhere, and it 
would take us just as long to try and go back to 
Miss Helen’s as it would to keep on toward 
home. Isn’t the lightning terrible? Nothing 
looks a bit natural, and I don’t even know if 
we’re on the path. It’s so dark I can’t see it at 
all, can you?” 

There is always a moment of terrific stillness 
before a big storm breaks, followed by a high 
wind; and the trees groaned and shivered as the 
first blast of the gale twisted the limbs and 
whipped the branches, nearly taking away the 
children’s breath. On top of it came a dreadful 
downpour that seemed as if the sky had opened, 
and in a twinkling both children were drenched 


OUT IN THE STORM ioi 

to the skin. That was just the beginning. For 
years afterward, that storm was to be talked 
about as the “big storm,” for never had thunder 
and lightning been so intense, and never had 
the damage been so great. 

The poor children were chilled through and 
through, and their sopping-wet clothing clung 
to them till their teeth chattered with the cold. 
The butterfly hair-ribbons had blown away long 
ago, and Wiggles’ hair was a silky wet mass on 
her head, but Jeannette’s long, wringing-wet 
curls were blown and twisted about her throat 
till it seemed as if cold, damp fingers were trying 
to choke her. 

“Wiggles,” panted Jeannette, trying to lift her 
voice above the blast of the gale and the thun¬ 
der’s boom, “we must get out of this woods or 
we’ll be killed by a falling tree.” 

“Let’s run till we come to that little clearing 
in the middle, and see if we can’t get in that old 
coffee-mill,” shouted Wiggles in reply, clinging 
to her sister. 

Down the rough path, black as night, ran 
the little girls, slipping on the wet moss, bang- 


102 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ing into tree-trunks, slapped by the heavy 
branches, falling into the mud, picking them¬ 
selves up, and struggling on. What would 
Mother and Daddy think if they knew their dar¬ 
lings were in such danger? 

Wiggles’ slipper, held by a little narrow strap, 
came off, and the poor child, unable to find it in 
the darkness, was forced to continue over cruel 
stones that cut her tender feet and made every 
step a torture. 

Then, just when it seemed as if their panting 
little hearts could stand no more, there was a 
crash, and a ball of fire seemed to drop from the 
sky, while it felt as if the earth rose up and hit 
them. 

«•••••• 

“I am so glad,” remarked Mrs. Cole, “that the 
children said they would go home by the high¬ 
way. This is the most terrific storm I ever re¬ 
member, and the dear little mites would be par¬ 
alyzed with fear if they were out in it a minute. 
I shudder at the idea of any one in those woods 
to-night. There is no doubt but that lightning 
has struck there several times. It looked as if 



There was a crash, and a ball of fire seemed to drop 

FROM THE SKY.— P(UJC 102 . 















OUT IN THE STORM 


103 

a ball of flame shot right down from the sky. I 
never would have believed that we could have 
such a severe storm so early in the season, but 
the weather has been unusually close.” 

Miss Helen walked about nervously. 

“I am afraid I did wrong to let them return. 
I should have kept them here, but I never saw a 
storm spring up so rapidly,” she replied in a 
troubled voice, drawn against her will to the win¬ 
dow. “Oh, look at that flash,”—with a little 
scream. “I never saw anything like it in my 
life. Something was struck near by.” 

“I don’t think you need worry at all about the 
children, Helen,” returned her mother. “I 
should never forgive myself if they had been out 
in this, but they had ample time to reach home 
before the first drops fell. That highway cuts 
the distance in half, you know, for the wood- 
path curves and winds so, that it is far 
longer. Wasn’t Elizabeth cunning? She sim¬ 
ply beamed when you spoke about the May 
Frolic. I can just imagine them now, telling 
the others all about it.” 

“They are very dear children,” agreed her 



104 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

daughter warmly. “Jeannette is very much as 
her mother was, when she was a little girl. Per¬ 
sonally I would love to have one of them for 
May Queen, but of course it would never do to 
show partiality, and the choice by vote is the 
only fair way. I am so nervous over them,” 
she continued, “that I am going to call up and 
be assured they are safely home.” 

The telephone gave no response, for the storm 
had disconnected the wires, and it was fortunate 
for Miss Helen’s peace of mind that she did not 
know the danger her little friends were in. 

It was an experience to cause the stoutest heart 
to quail, let alone two children who had always 
been surrounded by the tenderest love and care. 
But in spite of Miss Helen’s nervousness she 
never dreamed but that the children were safe at 
home, eating roast beef and mashed potatoes, 
and happily recounting the afternoon’s visit to 
all the home folks. 

The others just beat the storm, and the auto¬ 
mobile drew up at The Lilacs as the first big 
drops pattered down. 

“Haven’t the children returned yet?” Mrs. 


OUT IN THE STORM 105 

Eaton inquired with surprise as Hannah opened 
the front door. 

“No, ma’am,” responded Hannah. “I guess 
Miss Cole thought she’d better keep them till the 
storm was over. It’s going to be a hard one, 
ma’am.” 

“I wants to see my Jet and Wiggles,” piped up 
Cubby in a grieved voice. 

“Undoubtedly they will stay with Helen,” 
said Grandma with an anxious glance out of 
the window. “She knows that James can get 
them after the storm is over. Goodness, what 
a crash!” And there was a general run to close 
the windows as the rain came down in sheets. 

Dr. Eaton and Grandpa Carr, who had been 
in the city all day, arrived next. 

“Why, where are the youngsters?” inquired 
Grandpa, looking about in surprise. It seemed 
so unusually quiet without their happy voices 
and merry laughter. 

“They went to Helen’s for an afternoon tea- 
party,” replied mother in a troubled voice, “and 
have not returned. I thought they would reach 
home long before us, but Helen makes such a 


106 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

fuss over the children, that she has undoubtedly 
prepared some delightful surprise for them, that 
has kept them longer than usual. You know 
what lovely tea-parties the youngsters always 
have when they go there. Nothing is too much 
trouble for her, to give them a good time, and I 
remember she told me that there was something 
she was anxious to talk over with them. Still, 
I wish they were safely home. I like my little 
brood around me in a storm like this. Just hear 
that gale. It sounds as if it were hailing.” 

Daddy and Grandpa looked worried. It was 
not like the children to remain, if it was at all 
possible to return home, and the same thought 
was in each mind, although they said nothing to 
alarm the others. 

“I’ll just ’phone and tell them we’ll be over 
later when the storm abates,” said Daddy cas¬ 
ually. “H’hm,—the line’s out of order.” 

Grandfather was quietly getting ou,t his rain¬ 
coat and rubbers. 

“Guess I’ll take the car, and run over to Cole’s 
now, even if the storm is pretty bad,” said Daddy 
with a glance at Grandpa, who was slipping a 


OUT IN THE STORM 107 

flashlight into his pocket. “Want to come 
along?” 

Neither let himself think that there was the 
slightest possibility of the children being out in 
the storm, but both pulled on old caps and heavy 
wraps. 

“Oh, if my babies were out in this!” shud¬ 
dered Mother. 

“It’s not at all likely,” soothed Grandpa. 
“They’re undoubtedly at Helen’s, as cozy as can 
be. Still, I’ll just paddle along, too, and we’ll 
make sure.” 

It was fortunate for their peace of mind that 
the folks at The Lilacs believed the little girls 
chattering with Miss Helen and her mother. 
Still, it was comforting to know that Daddy and 
Grandpa would soon whisk them home. 

It was all the men could do to stand up, as they 
struggled out to the garage and climbed into the 
closed car. There was a tense line around 
Daddy’s mouth, and Grandpa’s ruddy face was 
white, as the powerful car whizzed along the 
muddy, slippery road, as fast as it could go with 
safety. 


io8 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

It seemed an age before the light from the lit¬ 
tle cottage-windows came in sight. 

Miss Helen was surprised when Queenie 
opened the door to two dripping men, and she 
hastened out from the pantry, where she had 
been putting away the remains of the party. 

“I suppose my two little girls are safely with 
you?” said Dr. Eaton, listening in vain for a 
sound of childish voices. 

A horrified cry stopped him, and Miss Helen 
turned so white he thought she would faint. 

“The children?” she gasped. “Haven’t they 
reached The Lilacs yet? They left here almost 
an hour ago.” 

Mrs. Cole was as much alarmed as her 
daughter. 

“Don’t you think they have gone into one of 
the farmhouses on the highway?” she asked in a 
frightened voice. “I told them to be sure to go 
that way, as it was so short, and I thought they 
had plenty of time to reach home safely.” 

Dr. Eaton groaned. “I had already told 
them to use the path through the woods because 
of the scarlet-fever epidemic along the road,” he 


OUT IN THE STORM 109 

explained hurriedly. “That’s probably what 
they have done. My poor babies! No, don’t 
reproach yourself, Helen. They could have 
reached home easily by the highway. Have hot 
blankets and a hot drink ready, please. No one 
knows in what condition we shall find them.” 

The men plunged out into the night, leaving 
Miss Helen sobbing and wringing her hands. 

And, oh, the weary search that was started 
through the pouring rain by Daddy and 
Grandpa. Where, oh, where, were the chil¬ 
dren? 

When the terrible crash had occurred, the 
poor children had thought that their last mo¬ 
ment had come. The earth rocked and they 
went crashing to the ground. 

“Oh,” screamed Jeannette, “that ball of fire!” 
But Wiggles lay white and silent for a while, al¬ 
most stunned into unconsciousness. 

Lightning had struck the tree right in back of 
them, and torn it in two. It was the very tree 
they had stood under while Wiggles had groped 
for her lost slipper a few minutes before. 


no 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

While just a short distance away, a giant oak, 
one of the mighty monarchs of the forest, fell 
with a crash, fortunately away from the trem¬ 
bling children, or they would have been crushed 
to death. 

“Jet, let’s pray,” gasped Elizabeth. So hold¬ 
ing tightly to each other, the two little sisters 
asked that they might be kept from harm. 

The very next flash of lightning showed them 
the clearing in the woods, and the ramshackle 
old mill that had been discarded years before. 
Into its poor shelter crept the thankful children, 
and there, in its dilapidated and dirty ruins, 
clasped in each other’s arms, Grandpa and 
Daddy found them, almost dazed with the strain 
they had been under, and so weak they could 
hardly stand. 

“I knew you’d come,” gasped Wiggles hys¬ 
terically, as clasped with Jeannette in Grandpa’s 
arms, while Daddy drove carefully, they made 
the return trip. 

The thunder wasn’t quite so terrifying with 
Grandpa’s coat-collar to snuggle against, al¬ 
though the men thought the journey would 


OUT IN THE STORM m 

never end. and theii loved charges be safe from 
danger. 

For years afterwards neither Daddy nor 
Grandpa could think of the search for the chil¬ 
dren without shuddering, and it was with thank¬ 
ful hearts that they saw the lights from Miss 
Helen’s cottage-windows in the distance. In 
five minutes Wiggles and Jet, stripped of their 
soaking garments, were rubbed until they cried 
for mercy, and then wrapped in warm blankets. 
Then Daddy bandaged Wiggles’ cut and swollen 
foot, and Miss Helen gave them big glasses 
filled with steaming-hot lemonade, which she 
made Grandpa and Daddy partake of as well, for 
they were soaked, too 

After the last sip had been taken, the little 
girls were wrapped in clothes miles too big for 
them, and wound about with blankets until they 
resembled two very large cocoons, and tucked 
away in the auto, with their wet clothes in a 
sodden pile at the back. Then, snuggling down 
by Grandpa with a sigh of content, they went 
whirling toward home. 


CHAPTER EIGHT 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 

S UCH a time as there was at The Lilacs 
when the two little wanderers were car¬ 
ried in. Mother, Grandma, and Aunt 
Elsie, of course, had thought them safe and 
sound at Miss Helen’s. So, when Dr. Daddy 
splashed up the walk, carrying big bundles of 
what looked like old clothes, with rosy faces 
peeping out the top, there was a great hubbub. 

“Any old clothes to-day,—any old clothes to¬ 
day?” chanted Grandpa in a sing-song voice, as 
Grandma stood with open mouth, gazing at the 
roll of bathrobes and -quilts that surrounded 
Wiggles. 

“Why-for you all rolled up like a itty (little) 
baby?” piped Cubby, scurrying wildly to and 
fro, and getting in every one’s way. 

“You poor little chickens!” exclaimed Mother 


112 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 113 

and Grandma togedier, as the story was inco¬ 
herently poured out by both excited children at 
once. Aunt Elsie was frantically dashing from 
room to room, running hot baths, slipping hot- 
water bottles into the beds, and making every¬ 
thing ready for their comfort, while trying to lis¬ 
ten with one ear to the account. 

“They looked more like drowned rats than 
chickens,” twinkled Daddy, appearing in the 
doorway with his blond hair on end, to see how 
preparations were going on. He could joke 
about it, now it was over, but it was a night he 
would never forget. 

Oh, such hot baths as they were popped into, 
and such brisk rub-downs as they received! 
Then, as carefully as if they were bits of delicate 
porcelain, they were tucked into their cozy white 
beds and fed with delicious buttered toast and 
hot chocolate topped with whipped cream. 

“Oh, it’s so good to be home!” sighed Wiggles. 
“I thought I’d never see my pretty forget-me-not 
room again.” 

“Yes, doesn’t it look homey and cozy,” Jean¬ 
nette replied, too comfortable even to turn her 


11 4 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

head as she spoke. “If I were a cat, I’d purr, 
I’m so comfy.” 

“O dear, every bone in my body aches. I 
know now what people mean when they say that 
they ‘feel limp as a dish-rag,’ ” returned Wig¬ 
gles, stirring restlessly, “for I feel sort of all 
limpsy, and jelly-fishy, if you know what I 
mean. Ouch, my foot throbs like a toothache!” 

“I know it must,” Mother sympathized, ap¬ 
pearing with a medicine-glass, “but the band¬ 
ages that Daddy put on will soon make it better. 
Now I want you both to close your eyes and re¬ 
lax. Your nerves are all a-quiver from the 
shock, and you must calm down.” 

“Yes,” agreed Wiggles uneasily, “I’ll try. 
But when the wind goes ‘ Whoo-ooo’ and the rain 
dashes against the pane, it makes me feel sort of 
shivery.” 

“And every time the lightning flares and the 
thunder growls, I think a tree’s going to fall,” 
quavered Jeannette. “I’ll try to relax; I will 
honestly, Mother, but it seems to me it’s an aw¬ 
fully long storm.” 

“And when I close my eyes I keep seeing the 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 115 

trees swaying, and the zigzags of lightning 
against the black sky, and feel that dreadful fall¬ 
ing—falling-” 

“Don’t think about it any more, Polly- 
Wiggles,” said Daddy, popping his head in to 
see what all the chatter was about. “Take some 
of this medicine, and try to make your mind a 
blank. I’ll pull down the shades so you can’t 
see the rain, although I’m afraid you’ll still have 
to hear it, as, unfortunately, the Weather Man 
isn’t a friend of mine, and refuses to stop the 
downpour. You’ve been good little soldiers 
and obeyed instructions so far, and I’m proud of 
you, so try now to carry out orders.” 

As he spoke he slipped the screen about the 
beds and went out, closing the door softly. He 
was thinking with a shudder how the “carrying 
out instructions” might easily have caused their 
death. 

I wish you could have seen those organdie 
dresses. Torn by bush and bramble, and cov¬ 
ered with stains where the children had fallen, 
no one would have recognized the pathetic- 
looking rags as the dainty frocks the little maids 



n6 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

had started out in, looking so crisp and cool. 
All three ladies cried a bit at the tale the sodden 
garments mutely told. 

The tired-out children fell asleep almost im¬ 
mediately, but in the middle of the night Jean¬ 
nette was aroused by a loud whisper. 

“Jet,—are you awake?” 

“Yes. Does your foot hurt you, Wiggles? 
Don’t you feel well?” 

“Yes, just as comfy as can be,” returned Wig¬ 
gles, snuggling deeper into the soft bed and 
listening to the beating of the rain outside. “I 
was only thinking about our new organdie 
dresses. We were going to keep them so clean 
and fresh, and they must look like mud pies,”— 
with a little giggle. Wiggles’ sense of humor 
could not be downed long. 

Such lame, sore little girls as awoke next 
morning to a dreary world, for the storm had 
settled into a heavy downpour that flooded all 
outdoors. 

Daddy was delighted to find that there were 
no signs of colds from the exposure, but declared 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 117 

that bed for two or three days was his prescrip¬ 
tion, and that it would be the end of the week 
before school could be resumed. 

“Well, anyway,” yawned Jeannette, “we’ll be 
back in time to vote for the King and Queen.” 

“And this will be a good time to write our 
verses for school,” added the youthful poetess. 
“Ouchety, I’m so lame that I couldn’t get out 
of bed if I wanted to. I must have what Mandy 
calls ‘misery’ in my back, and my foot burns like 
fire.” 

“I should think it would,” said her sister sym¬ 
pathetically. “Oh-h,”—with a shudder,—” will 
you ever forget that ‘crack-crack’ that sounded 
when that tree was struck? I never shall.” 

“Doesn’t it seem good to be safe at home,” said 
Wiggles in a dreamy voice. “I’m so thankful 
that I’m not a snake and have to live in the woods 
all the while. Well, if here isn’t Boots.” 

“Does Boots want to hear all about his sisters’ 
adventures?” asked Jeannette, as the fluffy pussy 
jumped on the bed and patted her cheek gently 
with one velvet paw. 



n8 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“He’s just trying to tell you that breakfast is 
on its way,” called Aunt Elsie, entering with a 
dainty tray, at which Boots licked his chops and 
fastened his green eyes intently upon the break¬ 
fast bacon. 

“I’se done made you chilluns some ‘jams’ for 
breakfast,” beamed fat Mandy, popping a 
woolly head in the door to inquire after her be¬ 
loved ‘white chilluns.’ “But I disremembered 
prezactly if ’twas corn ‘jams’ or grahme ‘jams’ 
you-all liked best.” 

“Oh, both,” cried the invalids rapturously, 
sniffing with appreciation the steaming hot 
“gems” and strawberry jam that appeared. 
“No one can make them like you, Mandy.” 

“Well, I done reckon I knows how to cook, 
seeing as I’se had a skillet in one hand and a mix¬ 
ing spoon in t’other evah since I was knee-high 
to a grasshoppah,” chuckled Mandy, rolling out, 
vastly pleased with herself. They could hear 
her throaty chuckle all the way down the hall, 
and her voice saying, “Yas, ma’am, I knew 
they’d like some o’ my ‘jams,’ Miss Jean”; for 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 


119 

Mandy had been with the family ever since 
Grandma was a little girl, and never called 
Mother “Mrs. Eaton,” but the “Miss Jean” of 
her girlhood days instead. 

Cubby pattered in a few minutes later, to 
snuggle down on the bed beside Boots, and 
fasten wistful eyes on the strawberry jam, al¬ 
though she had already eaten her breakfast. 

In spite of the continued storm on Monday, 
Mother had to go into the city with Daddy to 
make a visit to the dentist, as one of her teeth had 
been grumbling all night, and it would not do to 
leave it. 

“You be a good little nurse to your sisters,” 
she told Cubby, kissing them all good-by. 

“Poor itty gurrls, so drefHe sick,” mourned 
Cubby, trotting from one bed to the other, to put 
sympathetic kisses on each small sufferer’s cheek, 
and greatly enjoying her own importance. It 
was very nice indeed to be the one in charge of 
the two older girls, instead of the other way 
about, for hadn’t Mother told her to take care of 
them? 


120 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Ouch, Cubby, don’t lean against my back,” 
squealed Jeannette. “It’s so sore it feels as if 
it would break in two.” 

“Want me to give ’oo an al-colic rub?” volun¬ 
teered the baby nurse, remembering the cooling 
alcohol sponges given to her when ill. 

“No, thank you, Miss Nurse,” answered Jean¬ 
nette, entering into the play. “ I’m afraid you ’re 
too little. Say, Woggsie, if Cub is a really-truly 
nurse, she ought to wear a uniform.” 

“Sure enough,” returned that ingenious 
young lady. “Let me think. Cubby, you go 
get me two of Daddy’s handkerchiefs and I’ll 
fix you all up.” 

Nothing loath, the wee bear left the room, to 
return in a few minutes with a beaming face, 
followed by Aunt Elsie with a little white apron 
and a scrap of white lawn in her hand. 

“I thought I could fix up your nurse for you,” 
she suggested, pinning the lawn into a “sugar- 
bowl” cap, and fastening it to Cubby’s golden 
curls. One of Daddy’s handkerchief’s, folded 
and placed about her neck like a fichu, was ad- 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 121 

justed next, and when the white apron-strings 
were tied about the plump little waist, the cun- 
ningest nurse stood before them that any pa¬ 
tient could hope to have. 

“I’se a horse-pital nurse,” announced Cubby, 
flying to look in the mirror. 

“And we are your patients,” replied Jeannette. 
“Oh, nurse, nurse, I feel so ill. My fever is so 
high that my face has scorched the pillow.” 

Cubby cast a startled glance at the pillow¬ 
slip, and then carefully felt her patient’s pulse. 

“Derry, derry (very) sick,” said she with a 
frown, “with ’tile parenthis,” meaning infantile 
paralysis. 

“I have a fever in my feet,” announced Wig¬ 
gles with a realistic groan that sent Cubby 
scurrying to her in alarm, “and my heart has 
stopped beating entirely.” 

“I’ll cut you open with the sciddors (scissors), 
like this,” said the nurse in a bloodthirsty man¬ 
ner, snipping her fingers up and down like a 
pair of shears, “and then you’ll be all wite after 
the apperation.” 


122 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

The third patient, who was purring loudly on 
the foot of Wiggles’ bed, was carefully looked 
over next. 

“Him’s pults (pulse) derry bad,” mourned 
Cubby, holding one soft paw in her little hand. 

“He has the ‘cat-tar,’ like Grandpa has,” ex¬ 
plained Wiggles. “That’s the reason he snores. 
I do wonder why they named a disease after a cat. 
I must remember to ask Daddy.” 

“Well, what does Nursie suggest for her little 
patients?” smiled Grandma, entering with a vase 
of golden daffodils that Marion’s grandmother 
had brought to the children. 

“An al-colic rub,” replied Cubby firmly, 
“and some itty sugar pills.” 

“That’s a very good prescription,” answered 
Grandma, kissing the wee nurse. “And you 
are looking after your sisters very well.” 

“Oh,” replied that small damsel sweetly, “I 
don’t mind ’musing them for a little while, 
Grandma.” 

They all laughed at this, for it seemed to be 
rather the other way about, but Cubby’s respon¬ 
sible air was too funny for anything. 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 123 

“Aunt Elsie is downstairs with Mrs. West,” 
went on Grandma; “and I think, Cubby, that 
you had better run down and show them your 
costume while your patients take a nap until 
luncheon time. I am going to lie down myself, 
for my head aches rather badly, so the nurse 
may have an hour off duty.” 

So the windows were opened wide to let in the 
fresh air, and Grandma tucked the little girls in 
their cozy nests for a little “snooze,” and then 
went out, taking Cubby with her. 

Now Cubby had every intention of going di¬ 
rectly downstairs into the library with Mrs. 
West and Aunt Elsie, so Grandma, after watch¬ 
ing her trot down the broad stairway, went into 
her own room to rest. 

But at the foot of the stairs was Dr. Daddy’s 
office, past which Cubby must go to reach the 
library, which was at the front of the big house, 
and a naughty idea popped into her mind as she 
peeped in the open door. 

The girls had said that she was too little to give 
an alcohol rub, but her own Grandma hadn’t 
laughed, and had indeed seemed to think it a 


124 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

good idea. She just guessed that she would 
show them that she wasn’t a baby after all. 

So into Daddy’s office she tiptoed quietly, al¬ 
though it was the one place in the house where 
the children were forbidden to go. 

“ ’Cause,” whispered she, to soothe her guilty 
conscience, “I must get the ‘al-colic.’ ” 

Onto a tall chair she climbed, to reach the big 
bottles that stood on top of the glass case. For¬ 
tunately, Cubby knew better than to touch, or 
give to any one else, the pills of different colors, 
that looked so fascinating, even if some of the 
white dots did taste like “sugar-bowls,” as she 
called lump sugar. Daddy had instilled that 
“do not taste” idea very thoroughly in her baby 
mind, so now it was only the alcohol for which 
she searched, remembering the big bottle in 
which she had seen it when she had a “rub.” 

“Fse my dear Muvver’s itty helper,” mur¬ 
mured she to herself, teetering back and forth on 
the high chair. “Won’t Muvver be ’sprised 
when she sees what Fse a-goin’ to do?” 

She would indeed. 

“Seems to be nuffin here but pills,” she went 


CUBBY PLAYS NURSE 125 

on in disgust, for Daddy’s big case, of course, 
was locked. Then suddenly her bright eyes 
spied a large bottle within easy reach of her 
eager little hands, on Daddy’s desk. Down she 
clambered, catching her white apron on the 
chair-back, and tearing a large hole. 

“Such a tender apron,” she mourned, sticking 
her fist through the hole, and, of course, en¬ 
larging it. 

All bottles containing liquid looked the same 
to the wee nurse, so, with a struggle, she hastily 
uncorked it and took a sniff. 

“Smells bitter,” she declared, turning up her 
little nose and making a face, for anything of 
which she did not like the smell or taste was 
“bitter” to her. 

The bottle happened to contain cod-liver oil, 
but this, of course, she did not know, and took 
it for granted that it was the desired alcohol. 

It was an awkward shape to carry, and it took 
great perseverance to lug it up the long staircase, 
but, quiet as a creeping mouse, the little figure 
stole along. 

In the library she could hear Mrs. West and 


126 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Aunt Elsie chatting about the storm, and she 
hardly dared breathe until safely upstairs, where 
she peeked softly in the bedroom door. 

Both Jeannette and Elizabeth were sleeping 
soundly, with Boots snoozing happily beside 
them. 

With a satisfied gleam in her mischievous 
brown eyes, Cubby slipped stealthily in, and 
closed the door. 



She hastily uncorked it and took a sniff. —Pa ijc 125. 

























CHAPTER NINE 


THE RESULTS 

W IGGLES was dreaming uneasily. 

She thought she was running along 
through the woods, when her foot 
slipped and she fell down,—down, into a slimy 
marsh, and, no matter how hard she struggled, 
she could not get out, but felt the sticky-oozy 
mud all about her. 

Jeannette dreamed, too. It seemed as if she 
were in the kitchen, and colored Mandy was 
teaching her to make gems. She had the batter 
all mixed, and Mandy held the yellow bowl full 
of the mixture to show her how to pour it into 
the tiny muffin-tins. But, instead of pouring it 
where it belonged, Mandy upset the entire sticky 
mass all over Jeannette, and she could feel the 
clammy stuff trickling down her back. 

Boots likewise dreamed, but I cannot begin to 


127 


128 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

tell you what he dreamed about, except to say 
that it was a dreadful, dreadful “cat-mare.” 

Mrs. Eaton returned at twelve, with her tooth 
all fixed. Mrs. West was just leaving, and so 
Aunt Elsie and Mother ran up the stairs to¬ 
gether. Grandmother met them at the top, to 
inquire about the toothache. 

“The children have been taking a nap,” she 
said, “and so have I. They must be getting a 
nice rest, for everything is so quiet—” and at 
that, bedlam broke out in the forget-me-not 
room, and cat-yowls and children’s excited voices 
could be heard together. 

“Mother, Mother,” shrieked Wiggles. “I 
think Boots must be having a fit, and we’re all 
stuck up.” 

“What does the child mean?” gasped 
Grandma. All three ladies made a dash to open 
the door into the children’s room, as the enraged 
Boots, looking a queer spectacle, shot out, spit¬ 
ting violently. 

“That’s not a fit,” cried Aunt Elsie, “he’s just 
plain angry. What can that be that he has all 
over him?” 


THE RESULTS 129 

“For pity’s sake, children, what have you been 
doing?” asked Mrs. Eaton in amazement. 

“Can these be my little girls?” 

♦ 

No wonder she asked, for Jeannette’s long 
curls were a glued-together mass down her 
back, and the backs of both children’s night¬ 
clothes were dripping with a thick, sticky sub¬ 
stance. 

A small figure in white arose from the floor, 
from between the beds, where it had been sitting, 
“on duty,” as a nurse should be. 

“I gaved ’em an al-colic rub,” said Cubby tri¬ 
umphantly. 

“Alcohol nothing,” exclaimed Aunt Elsie, 
gingerly picking up the large bottle the “nurse” 

still clasped. “Cod-liver-oil, instead.” 

% 

“What is all the racket about?” inquired 
Daddy from the doorway, and gave an aston¬ 
ished glance at his little daughters. 

“So that’s where my cod-liver-oil bottle disap¬ 
peared, is it? Well, well, I never realized you 
children were so fond of it that you used it to 
bathe in.” 

“Cubby, you scamp—,” began Mother 


130 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

severely, but was stopped by an anguished wail 
from the wee nurse. “I-—I fought it was al- 
colic,” she hiccoughed, “and I wanted to 
hel—lup.” 

Of course the first thing to be done was to 
pop the children into the tub. Mother took 
Wiggles, and Aunt Elsie, Jeannette, and into the 
big bath-tub they were dipped for more rubbing 
and scrubbing. 

“Aren’t we the most mis-fortunate children 
you ever saw?” sighed Wiggles, as she was 
soused up and down. “Ouch, you’re taking my 
skin off, too!” 

“I may have to,” Mrs. Eaton said grimly. “I 
never saw such stuff to scrape off. Never mind, 
chickabiddies, it might have been worse, for Cub 
might have taken glue.” 

Grandma, swathed in a large rubber apron, 
was dipping the wee culprit into the big foot- 
tub, shaped like a sea-shell, for Cubby had liber¬ 
ally besmeared herself as well. 

“The soap’s in my face,” howled Cubby, who 
was struggling violently. 

“Well, the cod-liver oil’s in mine,” said Jean- 


THE RESULTS 131 

nette savagely, having the hardest time of them 
all, as Mother and Aunt Elsie worked over the 
long curls. 

Down in the basement it was a question as 
to who was having the worse time,—Boots or 
Dr. Eaton. Cats hate water, and poor Dr. 
Eaton had to scrub pussy vigorously in the sta¬ 
tionary tubs, to get the thick fur back to its usual 
state. 

“Meow, meow!” went poor Boots, and “scrub, 
scrub” went the Doctor, both looking very un¬ 
happy, for Boots had struggled until the front 
of Dr. Eaton’s suit was all spattered with soapy 
water. 

Hannah was changing the messy bed, with 
many shakes of her head over the antics of “dat 
naughty lamb.” 

At last the youngsters were tucked safely away 
once more, and long-suffering Mother departed 
to change her dress. 

Fifteen minutes later a chastened Boots 
strolled in, looking so thin and forlorn, with his 
fluffy fur all slicked down, that the children 
screamed with laughter. 


132 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Oh, oh, I know just how he feels,” gasped 
Wiggles, “for I never want to see a scrubbing- 
brush again.” 

Aunt Elsie fixed him a cushion by the window, 
where an occasional sunbeam tried to peep in, 
and little by little his hair fluffed out anew. 

Then sorrowful wails were heard, and Cubby 
entered, both hands wrapped round and round 
with long bandages until they looked like well- 
stuffed pincushions and were impossible to use. 

“ ’Cause my paddies were naughty,” sobbed 
she, burying her head like a little ostrich in Aunt 
Elsie’s lap, “and that’s the ‘why.’ ” 

“Naughty little hands that get into mischief 
have to be punished so they will remember not 
to touch things they should not, again,” said 
Mother seriously. “Don’t you think so, Elsie?” 

“I do, indeed,” Aunt Elsie replied gravely, 
stifling an impulse to hug the naughty little cul¬ 
prit, who howled afresh at Auntie’s words. 

“Does she have to have pincushion hands 
long?” asked the sisters sorrowfully, for they 
hated to see the baby bear punished. 

“Until dinner-time,” replied Dr. Eaton. 


THE RESULTS 133 

“She must realize how very naughty it was to 
touch any of Daddy’s medicines. It might have 
been acid, or something that would have really 
injured you, instead of just making you feel un¬ 
comfortable.” 

“I’se sorry,” wept the small sinner, with huge 
crocodile tears raining down her rosy face. 

“What are you sorry about?” questioned 
Daddy, taking her on his knee. 

“I loves ’00,” cajoled the artful baby, smooth¬ 
ing her father’s hair as best she could with her 
pudding-like hands, and planting a kiss on his 
cheek. 

“Yes,” replied Dr. Eaton unmoved, wishing 
to make certain that she fully understood why 
she was punished. “But what are you sorry 
about?” 

“Why, why,” murmured she, “I’se sorry ’cause 
I can’t do what I wants to do any more.” 

Dr. Eaton hastily turned away his head. She 
looked so little and cunning sitting there, bolt up¬ 
right, on his knee, with her golden curls nod¬ 
ding, and the ridiculous pudding-like bandages 
on each little hand, that it was hard to continue 


134 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

the punishment. It was easy to see that she 
didn’t understand at all why she was being pun¬ 
ished, so for a long time he talked to her in sim¬ 
ple words, explaining how she might have badly 
hurt her sisters by her disobedience, and, when 
the luncheon-bell sounded, she showed that she 
really understood. 

I don’t believe I have told you about the big 
double room that the sisters shared at The Lilacs. 
It was such a pretty room that it was a pleasure 
just to lie in bed and look around, while the 
others were eating their luncheon. The walls 
were a soft, cloudy blue, and an artist friend of 
Grandpa’s had painted blue and yellow butter¬ 
flies and bees, sipping at festoons of forget-me- 
nots, in a dainty border around the ceiling. The 
children loved to rest quietly and look at them, 
they were so pretty. 

The furniture was white, with twin beds for 
the little girls; and the windows were draped 
with the prettiest cretonne, up which pink buds 
and blue forget-me-nots clambered, while blue: 
rag rugs on the floor had tiny pink and blue 
posies woven in the border. The white furni- 


THE RESULTS 135 

ture was painted with sprays of forget-me-nots, 
while bed-spreads of the same cretonne as that 
which draped the windows, covered the beds 
when the children were not in them. 

The girls were both much surprised when 
Mother and Aunt Elsie rolled their beds to¬ 
gether, and then placed a bed-table over them, 
which was covered with a dainty white cloth. 
Then, instead of the usual individual trays, 
Grandma set the children’s places with the dear¬ 
est little blue tea-set you can imagine. 

“Where did you get them, Grandma?” de¬ 
manded Jeannette, examining the pictures on 
each side with much interest. 

“That set belonged to Jean and Elsie,” replied 
Grandma, filling a tiny chocolate-pot as she 
spoke, and placing cold sliced chicken on the 
tea-plates. 

“Our own mother and Auntie, when they were 
little girls,” declared Wiggles with satisfaction, 
starting her luncheon with much zest. “It 
tastes lots better on these than on ordinary dishes. 
Just look at those lovely gooey marshmallow 
cakes that Mandy baked for us, Jet.” 


136 MISS POLLY JV 1 GGLES 

“I’m going to do more than look,” returned 
Jet with spirit, and biting into one as she spoke. 
“Yum-yum, these are a treat. She’s put chopped 
cherries in the marshmallow cream inside, and 
they’re heavenly.” 

“She calls them angelettes. It’s her own name 
for them. I remember these dishes well,” Mrs. 
Eaton continued with a laugh. “Helen Cole 
used to come over here and have tea-parties on 
them when we were about your age, and even 
younger. We always had sponge cake and 
lemonade, and two striped peppermint candies 
apiece. It seems as if I ought to have some 
now.” 

“Did Aunt Elsie play tea-party, too?” 

Mother cast a mischievous smile at her sister, 
who laughed as if recalling something funny. 

“Oh, what is it?” cried Wiggles. “I can see 
by the twinkle in your eye that there is a joke.” 

“Well,” replied Mother, industriously darn¬ 
ing socks, “your Aunt Elsie was my baby sister, 
as you know, and she was only two years old at 
the time we started our tea-parties. She simply 
adored the chocolate-pot in that set, and, every 


THE RESULTS 137 

chance she got, she would steal it and hide under 
the dining-room table with it.” 

“I’m s’prised that you were such a little mis¬ 
chief,” remarked Wiggles, demurely. 

“One afternoon Helen and I had been play¬ 
ing dolls on the veranda, when Mother came to 
the door to tell us that the tea-party was all ready. 
We always had our tea-parties on a little white 
table on the side porch, but when we reached the 
table, the chocolate-pot, full of lemonade, had 
disappeared, although all the other refreshments 
were untouched. It was the first time that Elsie 
had found the opportunity to take it when it was 
filled, but it really wasn’t the lemonade she 
wanted, it just seemed as if the chocolate-pot it¬ 
self fascinated her. 

“Of course we rushed right out to the dining¬ 
room, and there, under the big table, was Elsie, 
clasping it in her two little hands and gulping 
down the contents from the spout as fast as she 
could swallow. 

“I can see her yet, with her long golden curls 
hanging down over her shoulders, and the 
lemonade smeared all over her face and hands, 


138 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

and down the front of her white frock, but with 
the most angelic expression on her face you can 
imagine.” 

“Imagine Aunt Elsie being so naughty,” 
laughed Jeannette. “Why, she must have been 
as mischievous as Cubby.” 

“She was every bit as bad, and maybe worse,” 
said Grandma with a smile. “In fact, Cubby 
puts me very much in mind of her. It seemed 
to me as if she went from one piece of mischief 
to another as fast as she could go. Many and 
many a time she has had pudding-hands, just 
like the wee bear, and I have even known her 
feet to be tied up because she would go ‘visiting,’ 
unknown to me.” 

“Why, Aunt Elsie, weren’t you dreadful? 
Won’t you please tell us some more stories about 
when she was a little girl, Grandma?” 

“Oh, do,” urged Jeannette. “Daddy says we 
mustn’t read in bed, and, though I’m so tired of 
lying still, I’m too lame to get up.” 

“How would you like to come in my room 
for a little change?” asked Grandma. “You 


THE RESULTS 139 

could be together in my big double bed, and I 
will tell you some stories, if you like.” 

“O goody, that would be lovely!” cried both 
children. 

They clambered out of bed with many grunts 
of pain, and slipped into blue bedroom slippers 
and warm blue corduroy bath-robes. 

Then, led as usual by Boots, the little party 
scurried across the hall to Grandmother’s lilac 


room. 


CHAPTER TEN 

grandmother’s story-quilt 

E ACH bedroom at The Lilacs was done 
in a different color. Jeannette and 
Elizabeth had one of the back bed¬ 
rooms, overlooking the stream and orchard, 
while Aunt Elsie’s room, all pale pink with 
ivory furniture, was right next door. 

Dr. and Mrs. Eaton had the yellow-and-white 
room, with its buff walls, white furniture, and 
daisy-strewn cretonne. This was one of the big 
front rooms, and from it opened a wee bit of a 
room, not much larger than a playhouse, which 
Cubby proudly claimed as her very own. 

But Grandmother’s room the children all 
thought the very best of all. This was the other 
large front bedroom, opening from Cubby’s 
tiny nest. From the windows one could see 
the brick-pathed, old-fashioned flower garden, 

bordered with lilac hedges and syringa bushes, 

140 


GRANDMOTHER’S STORY-QUILT 141 

while right across the road was “White Birches,” 
the beautiful estate that had been closed for so 
many years, and whose velvety terraces sloped 
down to the crystal-clear waters of Willow Lake. 
It was the most beautiful estate in Meadow- 
brook, and the children never grew tired of ad¬ 
miring the beautiful grounds and little rustic 
bridge that spanned the Lake. Wonderful little 
summer-houses dotted the edge of the water, and 
one, more daring than the rest, rose like a mon¬ 
strous white water-lily out of the very waters, 
and could be approached by boat or stepping- 
stones. 

The children never tired of hearing about 
when Mother was a little girl, and had played 
with another little girl named Marie Deering, 
whose parents had owned White Birches for 
many years. Many years later the place was 
closed, and Mrs. Eaton lost track of her friend, 
to her great sorrow. 

Wiggles and Jet had woven all kinds of ro¬ 
mances about the place. They loved to play 
that it was an enchanted palace, and that, until 
the Fairy Prince, on his white charger, drank 


142 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

thrice of the magic waters of Willow Lake, the 
house would stand idle, with closed doors and 
drawn shades. But as soon as the prince 
quaffed the crystal waters, the palace would stir 
to life, and a beautiful princess would appear, 
who would graciously invite “Miss Elizabeth 
and Miss Jeannette” over to play dolls in the 
fascinating summer-houses, and to ride on the 
prince’s white charger. 

It was an interesting fancy, and enlivened 
many a rainy day. 

“O dear! why couldn’t White Birches be 
open, with a little girl to play with us now,” 
sighed Wiggles wistfully, as she pressed her 
nose against the pane in Grandma’s front win¬ 
dow, and stared across at the “Enchanted Pal¬ 
ace,” as they called it. 

“Hurry up children, skip into bed,” said 
Grandma. “We don’t want you to catch cold, 
and it’s still very damp.” 

“I just love your room, Grandma,” said Wig¬ 
gles, as she scampered away from the window. 
“It’s so restful, and quiet-looking.” 


GRANDMOTHER’S STORY-QUILT 143 

It was a restful room, as Elizabeth said. The 
furniture was of French gray, with big cuddly 
wicker-chairs upholstered in the prettiest lilac- 
strewn cretonne. The walls were papered in 
the softest shade of lavender, with a deep border 
of lilac sprays. The children always called this 
“The Lilac Room,” while Mother’s was named 
“The Daisy Room,” and tall crystal vases filled 
with the starry yellow-and-white flowers stood 
on her dresser and table during all the summer 
months 

“The Rosery” belonged to Aunt Elsie, and 
was named from the baskets of roses that tum¬ 
bled their crinkly petals down the pink walls 
from the border above. 

Of course Jet and Polly Wiggles called their 
own particular sanctum “The Forget-me-not 
Room,” and Cubby insisted on calling her spot, 
“The Nest,” although, as the older girls pointed 
out, “Who ever heard of a bear-cub sleeping in 
a nest? It ought to be ‘The Den,’ or ‘The 
Cubby-Hole.’ ” 

However, it was very convenient to have each 


144 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

room named, for Mother could say: “Trot up¬ 
stairs and see if I left my gloves in the Nest. If 
not, I dropped them on the floor of the Rosery.” 

Or Grandmother would call, “Will you see if 
I left my glasses on the Daisy bed?” 

It was very comfortable to cuddle down in 
Grandmother’s downy bed, and to be tucked 
about with the huge quilt made of silk patch- 
work squares, which Grandma pulled out of her 
roomy closet. 

Aunt Elsie and Mother brought their sew¬ 
ing and settled themselves comfortably in the 
wicker-chairs, while Grandmother knitted bus¬ 
ily on a pink sweater she was making for the wee 
bear. Cubby, still feeling greatly disgraced, 
curled down in a little ball by her sisters, while 
Boots jumped on the arm of Grandmother’s 
chair, and watched her knitting with interest, oc¬ 
casionally stretching one lazy paw to catch at 
the wool in a languid effort at play. 

“You said you’d tell us some stories,” re¬ 
minded Jeannette, snuggling down with a little 
wriggle of content. 


GRANDMOTHER’S STORY-QUILT 145 

“I brought out my story-quilt purposely for 
you,” replied Grandma, with a little nod toward 
the patchwork covering that billowed about the 
children. 

“Your story-quilt? Doesn’t that sound in¬ 
teresting? What do you mean?” asked Wig¬ 
gles, gazing with eyes like full moons at the 
bright-colored silk and satin squares and tri¬ 
angles. 

So Grandmother explained that almost every 
piece in that patchwork had a story connected 
with it, and how she had made the quilt herself 
out of left-over scraps of material that had an in¬ 
terest for her. “You choose any square you 
wish,” she advised, “and if it has any kind of a 
story at all, I’ll tell you all about it.” 

Many of the silks looked odd to the children’s 
eyes, with the old-fashioned designs so different 
from those of the present day, while some of the 
materials were so old that the silk had worn into 
tattered ribbons. 

Finally, after pausing undecided before sev¬ 
eral that looked interesting, Jeannette pointed 


146 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

to a square of white silk, with a pattern of scarlet 
checkerberries woven in it, and said, “I choose 
that one.” 

“I must have been about Cubby’s age,” said 
Grandmother, “when I had that dress. Chil¬ 
dren in those days did not wear thin dresses, like 
you little ones do nowadays, except in hot 
weather, for the houses were not so well heated 
in the winter. Instead, we wore thick woolen 
dresses all winter, as soon as we could walk, that 
is, for everyday use, with silk ones for our very 
best, and over our dresses we usually wore black 
silk aprons.” 

“Black silk aprons?” echoed Wiggles. 
“Why, Grandma, how funny.” 

“It didn’t look at all funny then, my dear, 
when every one else was wearing them, too,” 
explained Grandmother, smiling at the chil¬ 
dren’s horror. 

“We lived in those days in the center of the 
city, and I had a nice little room which opened 
from my parents’ room, down two little steps, for 
many of the old-fashioned houses had steps be¬ 
tween one room and another.” 


GRANDMOTHER’S STORY-QUILT 147 

“Why was that, Grandma?” inquired Jean¬ 
nette. 

“I’m sure I don’t know, my dear. It always 
seemed a very foolish waste of footsteps to me, 
and a dangerous way of spraining ankles. For 
instance, in our home you had to go down two 
steps into the bathroom from the hall. To enter 
father’s library, you climbed up three steps from 
the double parlors, and, as I said, there were 
steps between Mother’s room and mine. Of 
course, if you opened a door suddenly, and for¬ 
got those little steps, you bumped your nose 
pretty badly. 

“I remember my mother’s dressing me in this 
new white dress, with the sprays of berries on it, 
which was trimmed with rows and rows of nar¬ 
row cherry-colored velvet ribbon; and putting 
on my long striped stockings that had cherry- 
colored stripes to match my frock, running 
round and round like peppermint stick-candy. 
It was really a very pretty outfit for those days, 
and I felt very much dressed up indeed. My 
flaxen hair was pulled straight back and held in 
place with a large round comb, and then frizzed 


148 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

out behind, just down to the collar of my dress. 

“I know I felt very proud of myself, and 
looked in the long, gilt-edged mirror that hung 
in the parlor between two horsehair chairs, with 
a great deal of satisfaction.” 

“Didn’t you feel dreadfully in such funny 
striped stockings, Grandmother?” 

“Not half so funny as I would have felt if I 
had had to wear socks. I should have been 
shocked to wear such things, for they were un¬ 
known, and would have looked just as queer to 
our eyes as striped stockings look to yours.” 

“May I pick out a square now?” asked Wig¬ 
gles eagerly. 

“Yes, it’s your turn next,” replied Grandma, 
catching Boots just in time, as he tangled her 
pink worsted in two playful paws and prepared 
to have a fine frolic. 

“Him’s naughty puss-cat,” said Cubby se¬ 
verely. “Him ought to have him’s pawsies tied 
up, too.” 

“So he should,” laughed Mother, “only I’m 
afraid he’d understand the reason even less than 


GRANDMOTHER’S STORY-QUILT 149 

you did, and I think, Babykins, that your ban¬ 
dages may come off in another half-hour.” 

“Have you decided yet?” asked Grandmother, 
as Wiggles paused uncertainly between two 
pretty pieces. 

“I think I’ll choose this dark gray square 
with the bunches of scarlet cherries in it,” she 
said at last. “Has it a story, Grandma?” 

“Yes, indeed. It’s another short one, a story 
about your own mother when she was a very tiny 
girl, and went to the World’s Fair at Chicago.” 


CHAPTER ELEVEN 


WHEN MOTHER WAS A LITTLE GIRL 

y OUR mother was just three years old 
when your grandfather and I took 
JL her on the trip to Chicago and the 
World’s Fair, and through the ‘Soo’ to Mack¬ 
inac Island by boat. It was a long trip for such 
a little child, but Jean was a remarkably good 
baby, and traveled wonderfully well.” 

“I can still remember the huge Ferris Wheel 
at the Fair,” put in Mother, as Grandma paused; 
“but everything else is a blur.” 

“Did Aunt Elsie go, too?” inquired Jeannette 
with interest. 

“There wasn’t an Aunt Elsie in those days,” 
replied Grandma, with a smile, “and so we had 
only the one little girl to take. 

“Jean was such a pretty child that I was very 

proud of her, and every one used to turn around 

150 


WHEN MOTHER WAS A GIRL 151 

to look at her on the street. She had great big 
dark eyes like Jeannette, and short chestnut- 
brown hair that she wore in a deep bang over her 
forehead.” 

“And what did she wear, Grandmother?” 
asked Wiggles with interest. 

“She wore a dress of that very material, Polly 
Wiggles, that you have chosen,—dark gray 
with bunches of scarlet cherries scattered over 
it, and a dark red coat with a big cape collar. 
Of course her dresses were long, as it was fash¬ 
ionable at that time for little girls to have frocks 
down to their ankles.” 

“Just imagine,” cried Jet in horror. “How 
funny she must have looked. Did she wear 
pantalettes, too?” 

Both Jeannette and Wiggles had read of the 
fancy pantalettes that were worn by the children 
in olden days. 

Grandmother and Mother both had to stop 
their work and laugh, while Cubby joined in, 
although she hadn’t the slightest idea what the 
joke was about. 

“Why, what’s so funny?” chorused the chil- 


152 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

dren, surprised at the mirth Jet’s remark had 
caused. 

«r \ 

“My dear children,” gasped Grandma, “ex¬ 
cuse us for laughing, but they didn’t even wear 
pantalettes in my childhood days. It was away 
back in your great-grandmother’s time when 
those were worn, so of course Jean did not have 
them.” 

“Oh, ’way back in the dark ages,” exclaimed 
Wiggles so seriously that both Grandma and 
Mother started laughing anew. 

“Jean wore the cunningest little scoop bonnet 
of shirred red silk,” went on Grandma, resum¬ 
ing her tale, “and she certainly was a picture 
with her rosy cheeks and great dark eyes. On 
her feet she had little strapped black slippers, 
and her dress was made with two pockets, in one 
of which she carried a tiny silk handkerchief 
embroidered in red cherries. It is the same one 
that you have in your doll trunk to-day, Wiggles. 

“Jean was very funny on the boat, and not a 
bit afraid of the water; in fact, she was as good 
as a kitten most of the time, and a great pet with 
all the passengers, although she was very shy 


WHEN MOTHER WAS A GIRL 153 

and did not make friends easily. There was one 
man, a Mr. Sam Brown, who played with her a 
great deal. He was a tall, very thin gentleman, 
with a little goatee, and I suppose hearing him 
called ‘Sam’ confused her, so that she associated 
him in her mind with the cartoons of ‘Uncle 
Sam’ in the newspapers, and insisted on calling 
him ‘Uncle Ham,’ much to his amusement. 
For Jean talked very, very crooked, and when 
we first reached Chicago she called it ‘He- 
cargo,’ while when we returned she had 
changed it to ‘She-cargo.’ 

“Several things happened on board boat that 
were laughable, and once I was very thankful 
that she talked so crookedly that no one could 
understand her. 

“There was a lady on board who really an¬ 
noyed the child with attentions, asking her ques¬ 
tions every minute, and keeping at her con¬ 
stantly to hear her funny talk, until Jean took a 
great dislike to her and wouldn’t have anything 
to say at all. One morning she had been teas¬ 
ing Jean for a long time, asking, over and over 
again, what her name was, and where she lived. 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


154 

and all kinds of things. But not a word would 
Jean utter. Finally the lady said, ‘Why won’t 
you talk to me, Jean?’ 

“ ‘ ’Cause,’ Jean said decidedly in the sweetest 
little voice, ‘you’re too “inquissia.” ’ ” 

“What did she mean?” asked both children in 
astonishment. 

“That was what the lady tried to find out. 
The child meant, ‘inquisitive,’ and it was the 
nearest she could pronounce it. I really 
couldn’t blame her, but for once I was most 
thankful for her crooked tongue. 

“It was the same afternoon that she played a 
trick on me that might have turned out seriously. 
I had gone with her to our stateroom to dress 
for dinner. I dressed her in her little red frock 
first, and she played busily around the room by 
herself while I was combing my hair. She had 
a great fondness for opening and shutting doors, 
so she slipped in and out of the room into the 
corridor several times, fussing with the key and 
turning the knob, and not making a bit of 
trouble. I was just slipping into my gown for 


WHEN MOTHER WAS A GIRL 155 

dinner, when, after fumbling with the lock, she 
cried triumphantly, Tse locked you in.’ 

“I thought, of course, that she was just play¬ 
ing, for she had never before turned a key, and 
the lock on our door worked very hard; but in 
some way or other her busy little fingers had 
managed it, and there I was, tightly locked in 
my stateroom while my mischievous baby was 
outside, free to go as she pleased. 

“Of course I rushed over and tried the door, 
only to hear her feet pattering rapidly down the 
passage-way, although I called her to come back. 
I was nearly frantic. Her father was on deck, 
talking to some acquaintances, but it was not at 
all likely that Jean would go anywhere near him, 
now that she had this unexpected liberty, and of 
course he believed we were together in our room. 
No one could tell where she might take it into 
her head to roam, and it seemed as if my heart 
would stop beating as I thought of the pos¬ 
sibility of her going on deck alone, and maybe 
falling overboard.” 

“Why didn’t you ’phone the office?” asked 


156 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Wiggles in much surprise, with a recollection 
of the telephone service in the hotel room 
when she had once stayed over night in New 
York. 

“You must remember that we didn’t have all 
those conveniences then,” replied Grandma, 
“and the boats on the ‘Soo’ were not up-to-date, 
even for those times. 

“I pounded and pounded on my door, hoping 
some one would hear me, but it was a long while 
before any one chanced by, and when I called 
out my predicament, it was discovered that 
naughty Jean had not only locked me in, but 
had taken the key with her as well.” 

“Oh, Mother,” cried both little girls, “what 
ever made you do it?” 

“I’m sure I couldn’t tell you,” laughed Mrs. 
Eaton, “for I was so little that I haven’t the faint¬ 
est recollection of it at all.” 

“Fortunately,” continued Grandmother, 
“Grandfather—only he wasn’t a grandfather 
then—had wondered why we were gone such an 
unusually long time, so, as I was explaining mat- 


WHEN MOTHER WAS A GIRL 157 

ters he came along, and of course hurried right 
out to hunt up the naughty little runaway im¬ 
mediately, and get the key to release me. 

“He found Jean on deck with another little 
girl, having a beautiful time eating oranges, of 
which she was very fond. He was very much 
relieved to find her safe and sound, and snugly 
tucked in her tiny pocket v/as the key. I had 
been locked in that stateroom an hour while she 
roamed around as she wished and explored the 
boat. It was most fortunate that she didn’t get 
into worse mischief.” 

Both children were greatly diverted, and were 
just going to beg for another story, when 
Grandpa appeared in the doorway with a big 
paper package tucked under his arm. 

“How are the little invalids?” he cried heart¬ 
ily. “You chickabiddies gave me a scare. I 
looked in your room, and you had gone, but I 
thought I heard a busy twittering down this way, 
and, sure enough, I find you’ve flown over to a 
new roost. Here is something warranted to 
keep you busy and out of mischief to-morrow,” 


158 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

—and he tossed the big parcel on the bed, where 
it was eagerly pounced upon by the little girls. 

Cubby hastily put both bandaged hands be¬ 
hind her, but Grandpa saw them just the same 
as he leaned over to kiss her. 

“Why, what’s all this?” he inquired. “Why 
the little pincushions? Have they been 
naughty paddies?” 

A mute nod was the answer, as Cubby bur¬ 
rowed her curly head in his waistcoat. 

“I think that they have been punished 
enough,” said Mrs. Eaton, leaning over to 
smooth the golden locks. 

So Grandpa undid roll after roll, until the 
mischief-making pink snips of hands came into 
sight once more, and, with a rainbow smile, the 
wee bear scurried over to look at the interesting 
big bundle her sisters were unwrapping with 
many squeals of delight. 

Inside was package after package of tissue 
and crepe paper in every color and shade im¬ 
aginable, and when they saw the pinks and the 
yellows, the dainty lavender and blues, they 
jounced up and down in the big bed until 


WHEN MOTHER WAS A GIRL 159 

Grandpa declared that they had better “go easy” 
or he would have to sleep on the floor that night. 

Of course all the basket patterns had been lost 
during the thunder-storm, but Miss Helen had 
called Sunday morning to inquire after the chil¬ 
dren, and had brought over plenty more, so they 
could make as many shapes and varieties of bas¬ 
kets as they wished. 

“Oh, you darling Grandpa!” declared Wig¬ 
gles, giving him a hug that nearly strangled him, 
while Jeannette and Cubby joined in until there 
was a great powwow. 

“We’ve been hearing about how naughty 
Mother used to be,” said Wiggles with glee. 
Truth to tell, she had been greatly pleased to 
find that she wasn’t the only one who got into 
funny scrapes. “We heard all about the 
time when she locked Grandma in her state¬ 
room.” 

Grandpa leaned over and examined the quilt 
closely. 

“Look here, youngsters,” he said. “Here’s a 
piece of your Grandmother’s wedding dress, and 
this is a snip from the very plaid necktie that I 


160 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

was wearing when I first spoke to the little girl 
who many years later became my wife, and who 
is now your Grandmother.” 

“Oh, do tell us,” implored Jet. 

“Yes, do,” coaxed Polly-Wiggles. 

“I shall never forget that day,” went on 
Grandpa, with a teasing smile at the expectant 
faces before him. 

“Grandfather Carr, that’s mean just to tease 
us! Please tell us,” implored both children, 
snarly black curls and smooth brown ones bent 
together over the fascinating story-quilt. 

“You youngsters want to remember that you 
are invalids, and must not be excited,” returned 
Grandpa gravely, looking from one sparkling 
face to the other. “You must lie down quietly 
in a darkened room-” 

“Grandpa Carr, you mean tease!” put in Jet, 
reading the twinkle in his eye. 

“—and not be disturbed by any conversa¬ 
tion-” 

Two deep groans interrupted him. 

“—and have gruel and dry toast for your sup- 




WHEN MOTHER WAS A GIRL 161 

per,” went on Grandpa gravely, watching the 
expression of disgust on each face. 

“Ugh. Gruel—we hate it.” 

“And,” he continued as if there had been no 
interruption, “possibly by next week, or the 
week after, if you follow these directions most 
carefully, you will be strong enough to stand 
hearing me tell a story.” 

“Grandpa! Next week or the week after! 
Aren’t you awful!” 

“I only said possibly even then,” reminded 
Grandfather, who dearly loved to tease. 

“We won’t make you any May-baskets,” 
Wiggles said mischievously. “And just think 
how your heart would break at that.” 

“Dear me, if that’s the case I’d better look over 
that quilt again,” exclaimed Grandpa in mock 
alarm. “But remember, youngsters, if you 
should have a collapse, that I warned you.” 

“We’ll be warned,” giggled Wiggles, imita¬ 
ting her grandfather’s doleful tone and greatly 
enjoying his nonsense. 

“Well, bless my soul. If there isn’t the very 



162 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

first valentine I ever sent to your grandmother 
when she was a little girl. Gracious, Eliz¬ 
abeth,”—speaking to Grandma,—“to think that 
you have kept it all these years.” 

“Of course I have,” Grandmother returned 
spiritedly. “It was painted on white silk, and 
so I could easily sew it in my memory-quilt.” 

The children hung entranced over the faded 
silk valentine, where two clasped hands were 
painted above a wreath of forget-me-nots, with 
the rhyme, 

“Through rain, through snow, through sun and shine, 
Sweet Valentine, will you be mine?” 

in tarnished gold letters beneath. 

“Oh, do go on and tell us about when you met 
Grandma,” reminded Wiggles, giving him an 
impatient nudge. “It’s just like a story-book.” 

“Yes, and my fever is rising rapidly from the 
excitement of not hearing,” laughed Jeannette. 

“Dear me, if that’s the case, I’d better start at 
once. It wasn’t what you might call a regular 
introduction, when I first met your grandma,” 


WHEN MOTHER WAS A GIRL 163 

said Grandfather, with a reluctant grin tugging 
at the corners of his mouth; “and it wasn’t the 
first time I had seen her and admired her either, 
although I didn’t know her to speak to.” 

“Indeed it wasn’t,” retorted Grandma se¬ 
renely. “You were always standing on your 
head, and turning somersaults, to make me look 
at you when I was anywhere around; and acting 
up and showing off in all kinds of silly ways.” 

“Grandpa! Showing off, and ‘acting silly,’ 
—imagine!” murmured Wiggles, patting his 
hand. “Do go on, Grandpa,—we’re listening.” 


CHAPTER TWELVE 


GRANDPA TELLS A STORY 

I FIRST saw Elizabeth Little in school,” 
started Grandfather. 

“Who was Elizabeth Little?” in¬ 
quired Wiggles, much puzzled. 

“There’s Elizabeth Little Carr, sitting over 
by the window knitting Cubby a sweater,” ex¬ 
plained Grandfather Carr, nodding toward 
pretty Grandmother. “She wasn’t Mrs. Carr 
until after I persuaded her to marry me, which 
was many years later, for when I first saw her 
she was just a little schoolgirl. I thought 
‘Little’ was exactly the right name for her, for 
she was the tiniest little flaxen-haired sprite you 
can imagine, with big blue eyes and two long 
flaxen pigtails always tied with big, perky, blue- 
ribbon bows.” 

“Did you have flaxen hair, Grandma, when 
you were a schoolgirl?” asked Jeannette much 
astonished. 


164 



GRANDPA TELLS A STORY 165 

“Yes, indeed, Jet. My hair was very light 
until I had typhoid fever when Aunt Elsie was 
a baby, and had to have it shaved. Then it came 
out much darker,” replied Grandma, whose hair 
was nearly the color of Jeannette’s. 

“Although I knew her name, I hadn’t the 
slightest idea where my little girl lived,” con¬ 
tinued Grandfather, “until one afternoon, after 
school, there was a fire in the neighborhood and 
I went galloping around the corner and down 
Becker Street, which was just one block from 
Center Avenue where I lived, and you can im¬ 
agine my surprise to see Elizabeth, in her blue 
dress and bows, standing on one of the front 
stoops watching the fire-engines go by. I was 
so astonished to find that she lived so near me, 
that I stopped short and stared at her, and then 
blurted out, ‘So this is where you live.’ ” 

“And what do you suppose was the very first 
thing he asked me?” questioned Grandma, 
laughing at the recollection. 

“What?” demanded the children breathlessly. 

“He said, ‘Is your father a Republican or a 
Democrat?’ ” 


166 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Oh, Grandpa, how funny!” 

“After that,” went on Grandfather Carr, “I 
always went to school the longest way round, so 
as to pass Elizabeth’s house, although she lived 
a block farther away from the school than I did; 
and I used to spend many an hour climbing over 
her father’s high back fence, and hooking ap¬ 
ples, cherries, and peaches from their fruit-trees 
in hopes I would see ‘my tow-headed girl,’ as I 
called her, playing in the garden.” 

“And when he did,” added Grandma with 
relish, “he used to do all kinds of foolish tricks, 
‘showing off’ so that I would look at him.” 

“Mandy had been cook for Mrs. Little— 
Elizabeth’s mother, and your great-grand¬ 
mother, children—for a year or so then, and, 
though only a very young girl, she was just as 
fat as she is now, and I used to be deathly afraid 
of her when she swept out of the back door and 
threatened to give me ‘one powahful lickin’ ’ 
with her big shoe if I didn’t quit climbing ‘her’ 
back fence,—although Mr. and Mrs. Little 
didn’t object at all. Mandy’s mother had been a 
slave, and Mandy had fourteen ‘first’ names; and 



GRANDPA TELLS A STORY 167 

she told Mrs. Little, when she was engaged as 
cook, that her name was ‘Pinkie-Rosie Amanda 
Virginia Magdalene Mary Martha Petunia 
Caroline Lillian Marguerite Veronica Rebecca 
Camilla—Jones,’ but she always was called 
‘Pinkie-Rosie.’ Mrs. Little stood aghast before 
the flood of names, and as her sense of hu¬ 
mor would never permit her to call a two- 
hundred-pound darky ‘Pinkie-Rosie,’ she chose 
‘Amanda,’ which came next in line, and ‘Mandy’ 
she has always remained. 

“Mandy always wore a bright bandanna hand¬ 
kerchief around her head like a turban, as you 
know she does to this day, and, in addition, gold 
beads about her throat, and huge hoop ear-rings 
that showed off beautifully against her dark 
skin. She certainly was a fearful and wonder¬ 
ful sight when she waddled out in the yard with 
a broom in her hand.” 

“A more faithful servant never lived,” 
laughed Grandmother, “but she certainly was 
feared by most of the neighborhood boys, for 
that broom was a formidable weapon, and she 
could use it with a will.” 


168 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Indeed, she could,” agreed Grandfather vig¬ 
orously. “I was eleven and Elizabeth was 
eight when I first knew her,” he resumed. 

“Just about my age,” volunteered Wiggles. 
“Did you feel in your bones that some day he 
was going to be your husband, Grandma?” 

“Of course not, child. But I always admired 
his curly hair and rosy cheeks.” 

“Now Elizabeth had a very odd elderly great- 
aunt named Mary, who used to visit the Littles 
every spring,” continued Grandpa with much 
enjoyment. “Out in the big back yard was a 
wash-house, a small low shed where Mandy did 
the laundry work; and about the shed Elizabeth 
had a very pretty bed of posies that she tended 
herself. She was very proud of those posies, 
and had the garden outlined with white clam¬ 
shells, so it was most attractive, though I sup¬ 
pose it would look very queer to you children of 
to-day. Aunt Mary had the oddest notions 
about flowers, and always declared that they 
should be watered with boiling-hot water to 
make them grow quickly; and, of course, the hot 
water she insisted on putting on them killed 


GRANDPA TELLS A STORY 169 

Elizabeth’s blossoms every spring and made her 
most indignant. So after I knew Elizabeth, she 
and I used to trot busily up and down the ladder 
leading to the flat roof of the wash-house, carry¬ 
ing all her flowers up there in pots, every time 
that Aunt Mary was due to make a visit. We 
knew she would never dare climb up that rickety 
ladder to get at them. Then Elizabeth and her 
sister Louise, who is now Billy and Dick’s 
grandmother, would take their china-doll babies 
there, too, and pull the ladder up after them, 
while Aunt Mary called, ‘Come down, little 
dears, and bring your flowers for me to see,’ 
from below.” 

“We simply lived on that shed-roof while 
Aunt Mary was at the house,” put in Grand¬ 
mother. “It made an ideal play-house, for it 
was cool and shady, as it was surrounded with 
all kinds of fruit-trees. Many a picnic lunch 
we enjoyed up there with our china dolls.” 

“Do you remember the time you had the 
whooping-cough?” chuckled Grandfather. 

“Oh, tell us,” pleaded the small grand¬ 
daughters expectantly. 


i 7 o MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Elizabeth and Lou, as we called Louise, had 
whooping-cough at the same time, as they were 
so near of an age that they were inseparable, like 
you and Jet,” explained Grandpa, pinching 
Wiggles cheek. “One day before the ‘whoops’ 
had developed, and no one knew that the girls 
had it, although they were not feeling well, Aunt 
Mary, unknown to their mother, gave them each 
an enormous slice of blackberry pie. In about 
half an hour they were the sickest little girls you 
would want to see. 

“ ‘Them chilluns has black diphtheria and is 
gwine ter die,’ Mandy moaned, waddling 
around wringing her hands, for the youngsters 
were a terrible sight, with black juice dripping 
down their clothes and big dark rings around 
their mouths. 

“ ‘Run for a doctor, Mandy,’ said Mrs. Little, 
terribly frightened by the unexplained black 
mouths. 

“ ‘No, no, it’s not black ’theria,’ Elizabeth 
gasped suddenly, letting out a regular war- 
whoop that she had been trying to repress. ‘It’s 
black—blackberry pie instead!’ ” 


GRANDPA TELLS A STORY 171 

“Why Grandma, I think you must have been 
just as awful a child as I am, maybe awfuller,” 
said Wiggles delightedly. 

“Oh, I wasn’t the only one that got in mis¬ 
chief,” rejoined Grandma briskly. “Why don’t 
you tell about some of your own escapades, 
David? Your experience in the wash-house, 
for instance.” 

“I hate to have my granddaughters realize 
what a bad boy I used to be,” explained Grandpa 
solemnly, tweaking Wiggles’ curls. 

“We’ll promise to overlook it, honestly,” she 
replied mischievously. “Come, ’fess up.” 

“Well, it was one morning during summer 
vacation, when this happened. Elizabeth and 
Lou were busily playing dolls up on the shed- 
roof, and Mandy was washing inside, when I 
quietly shinned up the ladder. I had every in¬ 
tention of being good,—and Elizabeth was the 
one that first put the mischievous idea in my 
mind,” went on Grandpa. 

“Oh, I never, David,” protested Grandmother. 
“You suggested it your own self.” 

“No, ma’am,” Grandpa stoutly denied. 


172 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“You said, ‘I wish we had a little tub up here so 
that we could wash our dolls’ clothes, for it 
would be such a fine place to dry them here in 
the sun’; and then you looked at me from under 
your lashes, and Lou kind of gave a little 
snicker, as much as to say, ‘Bet you don’t dare.’ 

“Mandy had just gone into the kitchen for 
some extra clothes-pins, and I had a sudden in¬ 
spiration. There was a small-sized wash-tub in 
the shed, as I knew. It was just the right size 
for dolls’ duds, I thought, but I was too lazy to 
carry that heavy thing up the tipsy ladder. I 
thought how much easier it would be if I could 
pull it up some way with ropes, and how aston¬ 
ished the girls would be at my cleverness.” 

“Showing off, you see,” smiled Grandma. 

“Yes, I guess I was,” admitted Grandpa with 
a twinkle in his eye. 

“So while Mandy was out of the way, I 
sneaked down and filled the little tub with suds 
from her big wash-tub, took down her good 
clothes-line and put through the handles, then 
brought the ends of the line up on the roof with 
a big hook, and, clambering back on the roof, 


GRANDPA TELLS A STORY 173 

pulled briskly away. I felt pretty pleased with 
myself as the tub left the ground and rose higher 
and higher. Mandy, hearing our excited 
voices and giggles, became suspicious that there 
was mischief afoot, and rolled out in the yard 
just in time to see the tub dangling above her 
head. She let out a roar of wrath that made me 
quake. I declare I didn’t tip it over purposely, 
but some way, in my haste, the ropes pulled un¬ 
evenly, and that whole tub of soapy water turned 
upside down in mid-air and showered down on 
her red-bandanna turban and calico dress, until 
she was drenched. 

“ ‘You good-fer-nothin’ limb o’ Satan,’ she 
yelled, giving a yank to her clothes-line, and, be¬ 
fore I knew what was happening, clothes-line, 
tub, and I went down in a heap together, land¬ 
ing on the ground at her feet. 

“I didn’t have a chance to escape,” laughed 
•Grandpa, “for in a second she had me by my col¬ 
lar and carried me into that shed like a baby, and 
soused me up and down in the big wash-tub 
till I yelled for mercy. But the funniest part of 
it was, that after that punishment she was my 


174 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

firm friend forever, and would call me into her 
kitchen and feed me cookies and doughnuts 
every time I came over. And, as you know, 
Mandy surely can cook.” 

“What did your mother say when you went 
home all wet and soapy?” giggled Jeannette, 
much entertained. 

“That was the saddest part of all,” chuckled 
Grandpa, “for, in spite of my forlorn appear¬ 
ance, she didn’t seem to think I had been pun¬ 
ished nearly enough, and gave me a good hard 
trouncing that I remembered for many a long 
day. And for a long, long time after that, I was 
very wary of Mandy, remembering her strong 
right arm.” 

“I must ask Mandy to wear the beads and ear¬ 
rings some time,” said Wiggles, “for I would 
love to see how they would look with her 
turban.” 

“And this piece of necktie in the story-quilt 
was from the one you had on when you first met 
Grandma, wasn’t it? Did she cut it off right 
then?” 


GRANDPA TELLS A STORY 175 

“Oh, goodness, no, Jeannette. But it was 
very fashionable for all the little girls in those 
days, and the bigger ones, too, to ask the boys 
and young men they knew to save the ends of 
their neckties for making into quilts. Quilt¬ 
making was as popular then as embroidery is 
to-day, and on some of the big pieces of silk and 
satin you can see the sprays of flowers that have 
been embroidered. See, here’s a wreath of 
apple-blossoms on this pale-blue satin square, 
and water-lilies on this light green triangle. 
The silks are going in ribbons, and it’s really the 
embroideries that are holding them together.” 

“I must ask Lou to show you her quilt some 
day when we are over to see Billy and Dick,” 
added Grandma. “Her quilt is much hand¬ 
somer than mine, as it is made entirely from big 
squares of satin or silk, and every piece is 
worked with a floral spray. She has golden- 
rod on the yellow square, black-eyed susan on 
the orange, forget-me-nots on the blue, and roses 
on the pink. I remember it was exhibited when 
she finished it, and won a prize, of which she 


176 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

was very proud. I shouldn’t be surprised if 
embroidered-silk patchwork came into style 
again sometime.” 

“Tell us,—” began Wiggles, but Grand¬ 
father Carr hastily arose. 

“Now, no more tales of my misdeeds,” he 
firmly declared, “for if I tell you any more of 
my naughty doings, you won’t have any respect 
left for my few remaining gray hairs. Besides, 
I am sure I hear Marion and Alice downstairs, 
and, without doubt, they want to see how you 
invalids are coming along.” 


CHAPTER THIRTEEN 


THE ENCHANTED PALACE WAKES 

A NY one would have thought, to hear 
the rapturous greetings, that the 
friends had been separated for months 
instead of days, for they chattered like magpies, 
as each one tried to tell everything that had hap¬ 
pened since they had last been together. 

“Miss Helen showed us the May-baskets at 
assembly this morning, and told us all about 
your adventure. What a dreadful time you 
had. Weren’t you terribly frightened? I 
know I would have been scared to death, for it 
was the worst storm I ever heard,” said Marion, 
settling down comfortably on the foot of the big 
bed and examining the story-quilt with interest. 
“The whole school is so interested, and no one 
talks about anything else but that and the May 
Frolic. Did you know that two miles down the 
road there was a regular baby cyclone, and a 
whole orchard was pulled up by the roots? 

177 



178 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

The trees look as if a giant had flung them about, 
and it’s too bad, for they are covered with buds.” 

“One farmhouse has fourteen panes of glass 
broken, and there’s not a flag-pole anywhere 
near that hasn’t been struck,” put in Alice 
eagerly, smoothing her blue gingham dress so 
that Boots could curl down in her lap for a doze. 
“The flag-pole at school is all in splinters, and 
I brought you a big piece as a souvenir of the 
storm. Gabriel climbed up the pole at recess 
and got a big piece that no one else could reach. 
He said he hoped you’d be at school soon, and 
if you wanted any more pieces of the flag-pole, 
just to let him know.” 

“Well, it was very nice of Gabriel, but I 
really think this piece is enough,” said Wiggles 
hastily, viewing very doubtfully the huge chunk 
of wood that Alice produced, and privately won¬ 
dering where she could keep it. 

“I told him that if he sent any more, he might 
as well send you the whole flag-pole and be done 
with it,” giggled Marion. 

“Gabriel is the boy that sits back of you at 
school, isn’t he, Woggsie?” asked Mrs. Eaton, 


ENCHANTED PALACE WAKES 179 

much amused at the souvenir. “I remember 
meeting him down-town one day, and he gave 
you the turtle that you have in your aquarium.” 

“Yes, he’s a nice boy, but just crazy over all 
kinds of squirmy things,” replied Jeannette with 
a look of distaste. “He brings the most won¬ 
derful wild flowers and rare mosses to school 
and knows just where they all grow. He knows 
all about mushrooms, too, and is fascinated by 
everything he sees in the woods or fields. I 
never saw such a boy. But he will carry around 
such queer things in his pockets.” 

“Why, he knows the greatest lot about all 
kinds of strange things that the teacher calls 
‘wood-lore,’ ” continued Alice, patting Boots, 
who purred like a teakettle. “He can tell you 
all about butterflies, and birds, and ants. And I 
never saw such lovely odd flowers as he finds in 
the woods. Oh, that reminds me. Did you 
know that the old coffee-mill in the clearing was 
struck by lightning, too, and burned right down 
to the ground?” 

Jet and Wiggles looked at each other with 
startled eyes. To think the coffee-mill, that had 


180 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

been their refuge, was gone. What if it had 
been struck while they were in it? 

Mrs. Eaton shivered, and, to change the sub¬ 
ject, for she saw how white the children grew 
when they heard this news, the basket-patterns 
were produced, and the lovely crepe and tissue 
papers w ere exhibited to the interested girls. 

Then Grandmother Carr brought scissors 
and paste, and, wrapping the invalids carefully 
in their bathrobes, she fixed them comfortably 
at the big sewing-table by the window, where all 
four friends tried their skill at making May- 
baskets. 

“Gabriel says he is going to vote for Wiggles 
for Queen, and I am, too,” confided Alice, as she 
pasted pink petals to a basket she was making 
into a huge rosy chrysanthemum. 

“Oh, Jet would be a much better Queen than 
I,” exclaimed Wiggles earnestly, smearing paste 
all over her hands in her excitement. “Why, I 
couldn’t be ‘haunty’ no matter how hard I 
tried.” She meant “haughty.” “Queens have 
to be just as proper as proper, and I never could 
be in the world.” 


ENCHANTED PALACE WAKES 181 

“The Queen in ‘Alice in Wonderland’ wasn’t 
proper,” protested Jet, cutting out daisy petals. 
“Don’t you remember how she yelled, ‘Off with 
their heads!’ all the while? What are you mak¬ 
ing, Marion?” 

Marion giggled as she held up her basket, 
shaped like a head of lettuce, to which she was 
just adding the last crinkly leaves. 

“It’s a joke on Hugh,” she explained calmly, 
as she twisted the pale green leaves into shape. 
“Grandfather gave me the idea, so I thought I’d 
make the basket while I was here. I’m going 
to fill this head of lettuce with vegetables and 
hang it as a May-basket for him, with a funny 
rhyme, ’cause he was a mean thing and wouldn’t 
show me the basket I found out he was making 
for Jeannette. He’d be furious if he knew I 
told you, and he’ll be mad as hops when he sees 
this, ’cause he loves to call me ‘Carrots,’ ”—with 
a toss of her tawny mane—“but says his own 
hair is auburn.” She accented the last word 
with such a disdainful sniff that the other girls 
giggled. 

“What is the rhyme?” asked Alice. 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


182 

“I’m going to put a bunch of radishes, a tur¬ 
nip, and some beets inside, and this rhyme: 

“ ‘Although your nose is turnip, 

And your hair a radish Hugh (reddish hue), 

Still lettuce send this token, 

As our heart still beets for you.’ ” 

“Won’t he be mad?” chuckled Polly Wig¬ 
gles, “ ’specially about that ‘reddish hue.’ ” 

“Grandfather helped me write it last night, 
and said it would be a good way to tease him 
back for all the jokes he makes about me. I 
could hardly wait until to-day to make the bas¬ 
ket. This shade of green is just right for the 
lettuce, and doesn’t it look natural? If you’ll 
give me a hat-pin, I’ll help curl your chrysan¬ 
themum petals for you, Alice.” 

“Here’s one on Grandma’s bureau,” said Wig¬ 
gles. “What do you do with it?” 

“You want to put each petal on the table and 
rub the head of the pin real hard against it. It 
gives it a crinkly look and curls the petal. I 
learned how when the Ladies’ Aid had a big tea, 
for they decorated with hundreds of yellow 


ENCHANTED PALACE WAKES 183 

chrysanthemums, and I helped make them. 
The room looked beautiful.” 

“I should think it would have been lovely. 
It’s a splendid idea, Marion,” enthused Jean¬ 
nette, who found it worked beautifully with her 
second basket, a big red rose. “Don’t you like 
this daisy basket Wiggles and I just finished for 
Mother? I was so glad that she went down¬ 
stairs, for it gave us a chance to make it. We’re 
going to make a lilac basket for Grandma next.” 

“It certainly is pretty,” returned Alice, ex¬ 
amining the dainty yellow-and-white basket 
with pleasure. “It was a good idea, making the 
basket itself a deep yellow, and then adding the 
big white petals. Won’t it be fun, on May 
morning, to scurry around and hang them on 
the door-knobs? Of course it won’t really be 
May Day, but the day of the frolic instead. I 
think it’s lots more exciting than Valentine’s 
day, and I do hope we’ll do it every year. Who 
do you suppose will be May Queen?” 

“I think one of the older girls will get the most 
votes, don’t you?” asked Jeannette. 

“You never can tell,” said Marion wisely. 


184 MISS POLLY JVIGGLES 

“Jane Juggins is positive that she will be chosen, 
and gives herself as many airs and graces as if 
she had been crowned already. She makes me 
sick. She said this noon that she was the only 
real blonde in school, and that therefore she’d 
look best as Queen, and that she was going to 
have a real satin and chiffon dress with a train 
if she was selected.” 

“Well, I hope to goodness sake she won’t be,” 
broke in Alice decidedly. “Of course she is 
older, and mighty sure of herself, but I don’t 
think she’s so very popular.” 

“Dear me,” said Wiggles, rumpling her curls, 
“won’t it be thrilling to have the names of King 
and Queen read out before the whole school, avid 
then see them go up to the platform and select 
their attendants? I can just imagine how shiv¬ 
ery and excited they will feel, can’t you?” 

“I don’t care who is Queen, as long as Jane 
Juggins isn’t,” sniffed Marion. “She called 
after me this morning, ‘Well, Red-Head, you 
won’t have to worry about being Queen or Maid 
of Honor. Your hair’s so fiery it would set fire 
to the Maypole!’ ” 


ENCHANTED PALACE WAKES 185 

“The horrid creature!” snorted Wiggles 
wrathfully, “when every one thinks your hair is 
stunning, and lots prettier than that molasses- 
taffy color of hers. I wish I’d been there.” 

Alice dropped her chrysanthemum and scis¬ 
sors, and opened her black-fringed blue eyes 
wide at the interesting news she was about to 
impart. 

“What do you s’pose?” she demanded breath¬ 
lessly. “I have some news, and I almost forgot 
to tell you.” She paused impressively, with a 
true sense of the dramatic, and looked from one 
interested face to another. 

“Yes, yes; go on,” they chorused eagerly. 

“Well, White Birches has been opened, and 
the people are going to live there every summer. 
Their name is MacAllister and they have one 
son, and— Oh, my goodness, girls,” with a 
squeal of excitement, “there he is now!” 

Four eager faces leaned toward the windows 
as a handsome dark-eyed boy on a beautiful 
white pony, followed by a big white collie dog, 
dashed up the driveway of White Birches. 

“Oh, oh, oh, that lovely pony,” sighed Wig- 


186 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

gles rapturously. “Did you ever see such a 
darling in all your life? Isn’t it a picture un¬ 
der that arch of birch-trees, with that snowy dog 
capering along behind? Just look!” 

May-baskets were forgotten as they watched 
the graceful lad race up and down the paths, fol¬ 
lowed by the excited dog. 

“Maybe,” said Wiggles hopefully, with vi¬ 
sions of riding on that entrancing pony in her 
mind,—“maybe he has a sister, about your age.” 

“Well, maybe he hasn’t,” returned Alice dis¬ 
consolately, “ ’cause Mother said that there was 
one child, a son. Isn’t it a shame? They just 
came yesterday, and have lived abroad for sev¬ 
eral years.” 

“If only he had been a girl,” sighed Wiggles 
sadly. “What good times we all could have had 
together. We could have played dolls in those 
dear little rustic summer-houses-” 

“And gone boating on Willow Lake,” put in 
Jeannette glumly. 

“And ridden on that darling pony,” added 
Alice. “But boys are so—so-” 

“Not ’xactly disgustable, but—well, unin- 





ENCHANTED PALACE WAKES 187 

teresting,” bemoaned Polly Wiggles with a 
toss of her black mop of curls. “Wouldn’t it 
have been gorgeous if he had been a twin?” 

“I should say it would,” agreed Jet, looking 
very downhearted. 

“With a beautiful dark-eyed sister named 
Jacqueline,” continued Wiggles dreamily. 
“You know we always thought the ‘Enchanted 
Palace,’ as we called it, would belong to a dark¬ 
eyed Prince Charming, who would appear on a 
snow-white charger, and quaff three times from 
the water of Willow Lake, and the Palace would 
wake to life.” 

“Well, there’s your dark-eyed Prince on his 
white charger. What more do you want?” de¬ 
manded Alice calmly, motioning toward the lad 
on the white pony. “Goodness, you can’t com¬ 
plain when your fancies come true like that. I 
think it’s perfectly thrilling that your Prince ap¬ 
peared just as you pretended.” 

“Don’t say ‘my Prince,’ as if he belonged to 
me. You all pretended about him, too. And 
he’s not a Prince anyway, he’s only an everyday 
boy,” sniffed Wiggles. 


i88 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Not exactly an everyday boy,” disagreed 
Marion. “He’s not an everyday boy like my 
brother, Hugh, for instance,—any boy that 
owns a snow-white dog and pony, and has been 
abroad, and lives in such a gorgeous place!” 

“And he certainly is dark-eyed, and he’s rid¬ 
ing a white charger,” volunteered Jeannette, 
wide-eyed at the coincidence. 

“That’s not a charger,—it’s a rather fat white 
pony,” Wiggles corrected, gazing critically at 
the good-looking lad. “Yes-s, I admit his eyes 
are dark, I can see that from here. But he hasn’t 
taken a drink from Willow Lake, and he isn’t 
a really grown-up Prince-” 

“Give him time, give him time,” murmured 
Alice absently. “Remember that a Prince can 
always grow up,—but he can’t grow down; and 
he’s older than we are, anyway. Oh, will you 
look!” 

There was no need to ask them to look. Four 
pairs of eyes stared unwinkingly, for, as if Wig¬ 
gles’ remark had been a signal, the boy, uncon¬ 
scious of the interest he was causing, had jumped 
from his pony and sauntered down to the edge 





ENCHANTED PALACE WAKES 189 

of the lake. He was warm from his trot about 
the grounds, that was certain, for he shook back 
his thick chestnut-colored hair, and fanned him¬ 
self vigorously with his handkerchief. Then, 
as the girls stood rigid with excitement, he 
stooped to the edge of the water, and, cupping 
his hands together, drank three times from Wil¬ 
low Lake. 

As if indeed the dreamy spell that had hung 
over the place so long had been broken, a big 
limousine, driven by a colored chauffeur, rolled 
up the driveway, and the front door of the house 
opened to disclose a pleasant-faced lady, who 
hastened down the steps, and then paused to 
speak to a groom, who appeared to lead away the 
white pony. 

“I’m ready, Donald,” she called, and the boy 
hurried toward her, gallantly assisting her into 
the car, and then bundling himself and the big 
collie in as well. 

“His name is Donald MacAllister. Isn’t that 
an attractive name?” asked Alice approvingly, 
as the car disappeared down the road. 

“He looks as if he were nice and full of fun,” 


i 9 o MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

added Marion, “but wasn’t it odd that the whole 
place did come to life just as he drank from Wil¬ 
low Lake? I felt just as if I were looking at a 
play.” 

“Every single thing turned out just as we pre¬ 
tended, except the sister,” declared Jeannette in 
an awed voice, “and we can’t expect everything. 
It’s just like a fairy-tale come true.” 

“Well, I know one thing I can expect if I don’t 
skip for home,” laughed Marion with a glance 
at the clock. “Seems as if that clock must be 
telling fibs, but I don’t suppose it is. The after¬ 
noon has just flown, and it’s six o’clock already, 
and I’ll get a scolding if I don’t practise an 
hour.” 

“Do tell us all about the Enchanted Palace,” 
pleaded Alice, gathering together her materi¬ 
als. “Maybe there is a fairy godmother to ap¬ 
pear yet. And, talking about appearances, here 
comes-” 

“Gruel,” put in Grandfather Carr mis¬ 
chievously, as he appeared with a dainty tray for 
two. 



CHAPTER FOURTEEN 


AN OLD FRIENDSHIP RENEWED 

W ATCH me turn a cart-wheel,” 

shrieked Wiggles, flashing down 
the veranda steps and turning 
cart-wheels so rapidly down the path to where 
the three other girls were waiting for her 
by the gate, that it made them dizzy to look at 
her. 

“There,” she puffed triumphantly, coming up 
rosy and breathless and shaking back a mop of 
tumbled black curls, “I feel better now that I’ve 
let off steam. That’s to prove that I’m not an 
invalid any more. Won’t it seem nice to be back 
at school again, Jet?” 

“Look how you’ve tumbled your clean dress,” 
reproved Jeannette, looking her sister over criti¬ 
cally. “Mother wouldn’t like you to act like 
that, anyway,—it isn’t ladylike.” Jeannette was 


192 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

fond on occasions of adopting an elder-sister 
tone. 

“Well, who wants to be a lady?” returned 
Wiggles, tossing her curls and casting a quick 
glance at her crisp linen frock. “I don’t, I’m 
sure. When I get so old that I can’t jump 
around or climb fences or wade in brooks or do 
anything that’s fun at all, then I’ll have lots and 
lots of time left over in which to be ladylike; and, 
oh, won’t I hate it!” 

On the green lawn opposite, the handsome lad 
astride the white pony had sat up with interest 
and an alert look in his dark eyes, as the mis¬ 
chievous Wiggles went whirling down the path. 

“That’s some girl,” he told the white pony, and 
his eyes rested with approval on the glistening 
black curls of the small maiden who was wait¬ 
ing impatiently while her hair-ribbon was more 
securely anchored, and Jeannette straightened 
the belt of her dress. 

“I never saw a girl in France or Spain or 
Japan or England or any other place turn cart¬ 
wheels like that,” Donald MacAllister confided 


OLD FRIENDSHIP RENEWED 193 

to the pony, who tossed its head impatiently at 
being held in check. “American girls beat 
them all, that’s sure. You know, I’d like to 
know that girl, and those boys that I saw over 
there yesterday. It’s awfully lonesome not 
knowing any one around, isn’t it, Snow Queen? 
Come on, let’s do some tricks.” 

Over the stone wall went the pony, guided by 
Donald’s capable hands, and the four children 
opposite watched with interest as the sturdy boy 
put the pretty animal through all kinds of tricks. 
Finally he jumped erect, and balancing himself 
on Snow Queen’s back as she trotted along, he 
carelessly reached up and plucked a spray of 
leaves from the branches overhead. 

“Oh, oh, look at that!” breathed three of the 
girls in admiration, watching the good-looking 
lad with round-eyed amazement. 

“Pooh—showing off,” said Wiggles coolly, 
tossing her curls and glancing from the corner 
of her eyes as Donald easily lowered himself into 
the saddle and jumped back over the stone wall 
again. “Thought you were all in such a dread- 


194 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ful hurry. I’ll race you to the brook.” And in 
a second all four girls were off, leaving the boy 
looking after them with wistful eyes. 

“What’s the matter, Donald?” asked a laugh¬ 
ing voice behind him, and he turned with a smile 
to greet the slim brown-haired lady who was 
strolling over the lawn toward him. 

“Just wishing I knew some of the boys and 
girls around here,” he replied, dismounting as 
he spoke, and tucking his arm through his 
mother’s with a lordly air that was most amusing. 

“Well, Don, I’m sure you’ll soon get ac¬ 
quainted. It’s been many, many years since I 
was last in Meadowbrook,” she continued with 
a slight sigh, “but I am sure that some of my 
old friends must still live around here, and I 
know that you’ll enjoy having a real home and 
playmates at last.” 

“Yesterday I saw some bully-looking boys, 
and this morning a girl that turned cart-wheels 
like lightning, over there,” Donald responded 
with animation, motioning toward The Lilacs. 
“Do you know who lives there?” 

“Not any more. When I was a girl—” be- 


OLD FRIENDSHIP RENEWED 195 

gan Mrs. Mac A] lister, only to break off and look 
with startled eyes at the figure that appeared on 
the lawn opposite. “Can I believe my own 
eyes?” she gasped, as Mrs. Carr, carrying scis¬ 
sors and a large basket, and intent on gathering 
bouquets for the house, came into view, with 
Boots following at her heels. 

“I do believe that The Lilacs has never been 
sold, and that our old friends, the Carrs, are still 
living there. How I hope so! It will make my 
home-coming very happy if Jean and Elsie still 
live opposite. I heard that Jean married a 
doctor.” 

With a graceful gesture very much like her 
son’s, she caught interested Donald by the hand 
and hastened across the road to where Grand¬ 
mother Carr was busily snipping lilac blossoms. 

“Marie Deering!” cried Mrs. Carr, dropping 
lilacs, basket and all, and seizing Mrs. MacAl- 
lister’s outstretched hands. “Can it be you who 
have come back to White Birches after all these 
years?” 

“Indeed, it is, dear Mrs. Carr,” returned 
Donald’s mother, smiling, “only I’m Marie 


196 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

MacAllister now, and this is my son, Donald.” 

She pulled forward the brown-eyed boy as she 
spoke, who bowed with an easy grace most en¬ 
gaging, and then stooped to recover the basket 
and tumbled lilac-sprays. 

“You see,” Mrs. MacAllister continued 
eagerly, “I’ve always wanted really to settle 
down in my childhood home, so White Birches 
has become my own again, and I only hope that 
I am in America to stay.” 

“Then you have been living abroad?” ques¬ 
tioned Mrs. Carr, smiling at Donald, who re¬ 
turned the smile with interest. 

“Yes. White Birches was sold right after my 
parents died so suddenly,” explained Mrs. Mac¬ 
Allister. “Two years later I met Douglas Mac¬ 
Allister, and married him, and ever since we 
have roamed over the world, so that my poor 
Donald has lived in his own land less than in 
any other. For the past two years we have been 
in England, and at last I am happy to say that my 
husband’s business has brought him back to our 
own country, and here we intend to remain.” 

“We heard that an English widow had bought 


OLD FRIENDSHIP RENEWED 197 

White Birches,” said Grandmother Carr, look¬ 
ing much relieved. 

Mrs. MacAllister gave a low laugh. “That’s 
the way gossip confused things,” she responded 
gayly. “Mr. MacAllister will not be here for 
another six weeks, and we are still spending most 
of our time between Meadowbrook and New 
York, for the place was badly in need of repairs 
before we could move in, but another few days 
will find us entirely settled, and then I want you 
surely to come over and bring Elsie and Jean 
and your little granddaughters, so that my boy 
may become acquainted. How I shall enjoy 
renewing my friendship with Jean. My poor 
boy has never lived long enough in one land to 
know what a real chum is like, and now I hope 
to give him all he has missed in these years of 
travel.” 

“Then it is your beautiful white pony that the 
children have been talking about,” Mrs. Carr 
said with a smile at Donald, who gave her a 
merry glance. 

“Yes, that is Snow Queen,” he replied, “and I 
have another just like her, called ‘White Beauty.’ 


198 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

I’d love to have the girls ride on them any time 
they would like. They are very gentle,” he con¬ 
tinued hastily, “and wouldn’t hurt them at all.” 

“I know that they would be more than 
pleased,” replied Grandmother Carr, “and it is 
very kind of you, for both children are fond of 
riding.” 

“Is the little girl with black curls your grand¬ 
daughter?” asked Donald with interest. 

“Yes, that’s Wiggles,—I should say Eliza¬ 
beth,” laughed Mrs. Carr, “but Wiggles’ so ex¬ 
presses her love of perpetual motion that she is 
called it most of the time.” 

“I noticed her this morning,” returned Mrs. 
MacAllister, “and thought what a captivating 
little mischief she was. To think that she is 
Jean’s daughter!” 

“Jeannette is Wiggles’ older sister, and the 
two other girls are their inseparable compan¬ 
ions, Marion West and Alice Maxfield,” added 
Mrs. Carr. “I don’t believe you have seen 
Cubby as yet. She is the baby of the family, and 
her real name is Evelyn.” 



OLD FRIENDSHIP RENEWED 199 

“And the boys that I saw yesterday afternoon, 
who were they?” put in Donald eagerly. 

“They are Jeannette’s and Elizabeth’s cousins, 
Billy and Dick Gerard, and are fine manly boys, 
just bubbling over with mischief. The boy with 
dark-red hair is Marion’s brother, Hugh West. 
I’m sure you will like them all, and have many 
good times together after you become ac¬ 
quainted.” 

“Couldn’t you and Jean and Elsie bring the 
little girls over to see us some afternoon next 
week?” asked Mrs. MacAllister. “Any day 
that suits you will be convenient for me.” 

“Please do,” begged Donald. 

“We should love to,” responded Grandmother 
Carr, smiling into the pleading dark eyes that 
begged her to say “yes,” so beseechingly. “I 
can’t promise which day it will be, but if it is sat¬ 
isfactory to you, we will just run in informally.” 

“Any day you like. I so anticipate seeing you 
all again and having an old time powwow. We 
have many years to make up, you know,” 
laughed Mrs. MacAllister. “Come, Don. If 


200 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


we are going into town to see the decorators, 
we shall have to hurry. Good-by, Mrs. Carr. 
Please remember me to Jean and Elsie, and don’t 
forget your promise to run in.” 

“And bring Dick and Billy, too, if they can 
come,” called back Donald. 

Mrs. Carr returned to her flower-gathering 
in a contented frame of mind. 

Marie Deering and Jean Carr had been in¬ 
timate friends in their childhood days, long be¬ 
fore Jean had married Dr. Eaton, or Marie had 
become Mrs. MacAllister, and she knew how 
pleasant the revival of friendship would be to 
them all; while gallant, sturdy Donald had 
greatly appealed to her, and would be a pleasant 
companion for the children. She could easily 
imagine the many good times they would have 
together; and, picking up her basket of blossoms 
in one hand, and Boots in the other, she hurried 
into the house to tell the good news. 


CHAPTER FIFTEEN 


Gabriel’s surprise 

J EANNETTE’S and Elizabeth’s arrival at 
school was a regular triumphant entry. 
They were quite the heroines of the hour 
after the experience they had been through, and 
the pupils were all agog to hear their own ac¬ 
count of the adventure. Older pupils, who had 
never before noticed their existence, stopped to 
inquire all about the dreadful storm, and offered 
them fruit and candy. 

Naturally the news had spread like wild-fire 
all through the small school. In addition the 
class-rooms buzzed with May Day plans, and 
even although the boys had pooh-poohed the 
idea, they were not above showing off in antici¬ 
pation of votes. 

It was surprising how rapidly the basket- 
frames had disappeared. There could be no 
doubt but that the May Frolic would be a sue- 


201 


202 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

cess, for the children were wildly enthusiastic. 

Slips of paper and pencils were given out at 
assembly, and each pupil cast two votes, one for 
King and one for Queen. Excitement ran high 
when, to the stirring march played on the piano, 
the classes one by one filed past the big desk 
where Miss Helen sat, and dropped pale-pink 
slips containing the chosen Queen’s name into 
one big box, and blue slips on which were writ¬ 
ten the King’s name into another. The votes 
were to be counted during the day, and the names 
of the King and Queen of the May would be an¬ 
nounced at closing time. It was hard to return 
to the class-rooms and settle down to work. 

“Say, Wiggles,” whispered Gabriel from the 
seat behind hers, “I’ll let you see all my spelling 
if you don’t know yours, and I have something to 
give you at recess,—a surprise for you.” 

As Gabriel’s spelling was the worst in the 
room, Wiggles did not accept his offer, but she 
beamed at the idea of a surprise, and during the 
lessons kept wondering what it could be. 

She was nearly overcome with curiosity all 
through the morning, for Gabriel’s black head 


GABRIEL’S SURPRISE 203 

kept disappearing in his desk, where the sur¬ 
prise had been carefully stowed away, in a most 
tantalizing manner. 

To Gabriel’s idea of thinking, no girl in the 
school could compare with Elizabeth. He de¬ 
clared that any girl who could skip rope, and 
run, and walk fences as she did, with the agility 
of an acrobat, was almost as good as a boy; and 
on his prowls through fields and woods he was 
always collecting rare ferns for her garden, or 
the first fragrant sprays of arbutus, or fragile 
Indian-pipes, and bringing them to school for 
her, just to see her blue eyes open with amaze¬ 
ment, and to hear her say, “Oh, isn’t that 
lovely! Where did you ever find it?” 

He swelled with importance as he thought 
how she would clap her hands and spin round 
on her toes when she beheld the surprise in 
store for her at recess, as he had never before 
found anything so unusual. 

As Gabriel was always bringing surprises, and 
delightful ones, too, Polly Wiggles wondered 
with a little wriggle of impatience if it could be 
the clump of maiden-hair fern which she had 


204 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

long wanted for her rockery. Only the week 
before he had given her a little birch-bark box, 
beautifully made, and heaped with the first wild 
strawberries, scarlet and tempting, and each one 
big as her thumb and sweet as honey. 

But if Wiggles had known what was to greet 
her eyes at recess, she never would have sat so 
quietly, or listened so intently to the teacher’s 
words. 

Arithmetic and reading went on as usual, and 
then paper was distributed for painting, which 
was always the first period after recess. Wig¬ 
gles loathed painting, and it always mortified her 
to see her own finished daubs. 

Alice was very artistic, and did splendid work 
in both drawing and color work, so she examined 
with interest the object to be copied, a pretty 
yellow teapot placed on a small table at the 
front of the room, where it was in a good posi¬ 
tion for all the youthful artists to see. 

Alice was monitor of the paint-boxes, and 
went about importantly placing a box and brush 
at each desk, and tiny glasses of water in which to 
wash the brushes. 


GABRIEL’S SURPRISE 205 

At last arithmetic came to an end, and the 
bell rang for recess, which was a twenty-minute 
period of relaxation for the children, during 
which they might walk about the class-room and 
talk, or play out-of-doors in the big school-yard. 

It was such a beautiful day that most of the 
children bolted for the school-yard, Alice among 
the first, expecting Wiggles to follow, and join in 
a game of Poison l ag, or Illario. 

But Wiggles waited with a beating heart to 
see the surprise. 

“I’m so anxious to see it,” she smiled, spinning 
round in her seat and wondering if Gabriel 
could be making her a May-basket. She knew 
that Dick was weaving two, one for Marion, and 
one for Alice, and that Hugh had already made 
one for Jeannette, so she was anxious to see if 
any of her friends remembered her as well. 

“I got it for you yesterday,” Gabriel beamed, 
plunging into his desk and rummaging about 
for a tantalizing time. “Look here—isn’t it a 
dandy?” 

Now Gabriel had no intention of frightening 
Wiggles. He was an enthusiastic naturalist, 


206 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

and loved all the small creatures that inhabited 
the woods and fields. Wiggles had exclaimed 
with pleasure over a tiny turtle that he had given 
her, and the thought never entered his mind that, 
like other small girls, she might be afraid of his 
unusual surprise. So with a comical air of tri¬ 
umph he held out to her,—not a dainty May- 
basket, as she half expected, but a wiggling, 
slimy snake. 

His big black eyes danced with pleasure as 
he coiled the creature in his hands, to place on 
Polly Wiggles’ lap. 

With an exclamation of fright and disgust, 
Wiggles sprang away, and only with difficulty 
repressed a shriek, for if there was one thing 
she detested above all others, it was any kind of 
a snake. Her white and horrified face told 
Gabriel even more than her faltering tongue. 

“Oh! oh! oh! Keep it away from me. 
Don’t let it get on me!” she chattered, shivering 
at the idea. 

Gabriel’s face fell. 

“I’m sorry, Wiggles,” he mourned, hastily 



GABRIEL’S SURPRISE 


207 


stuffing the snake into his desk like a wad of 
string. “I wouldn’t have scared you for any¬ 
thing, but aren’t girls queer to be afraid'of a little 
snake like this? It won’t hurt you. Why, 
Wfiggles, it’s most unusual, it’s a——” 

“Oh, I don’t care if it’s worth a million dol¬ 
lars,” shuddered Wiggles. “It makes me feel 
creepy just to think of it. How can you handle 


“But you handled a turtle,” exclaimed puz¬ 
zled Gabriel, much surprised at the distinction 
shown. “I meant to give it to you for keeps, in 
a May-basket at first, on May Day, ’cause I 
thought you’d be kind o’ pleased.” 

“I’m sorry, too, Gabriel,” apologized Polly 
Wiggles, seeing his disappointment, and trying 
to keep back a shudder. “I honestly did like 
your little turtle ever so much. That was cun¬ 
ning. But please don’t hang any snakes, or-or 
—spiders, or crawly things in a May-basket for 
me, will you? I like flowers and ferns so much 
better. Let’s—let’s go out now, and play tag.” 

To tell the truth, Polly Wiggles was decidedly 




208 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

anxious to get as far away from the snake as 
possible. 

“Don’t tell teacher,” warned Gabriel, banging 
down his desk-lid. “She might not like it, 
either, though I can’t see why she should mind 
my having a nice little snake in my desk.” 

Still he knew from past experiences that 
teachers had most peculiar ideas about what 
should and should not be brought to school in 
a boy’s pockets. 

“Are you certain-sure that your desk is tight, 
so it can’t get out?” asked Wiggles nervously, 
seeing in imagination the slimy, slippery snake 
crawling over the back of the desk, and down 
into her own seat. 

“Course it’s tight,” Gabriel replied in disgust. 
“Didn’t you hear how I banged down the lid? 
You don’t suppose I want that valuable snake 
walking all over the school, do you?” 

“Mercy, I should hope not,” shuddered Polly 
Wiggles in horror. 

Now Gabriel honestly believed the desk was 
tight, and that the prisoner was safe inside, but 


GABRIEL’S SURPRISE 209 

in some way the banging had been too hard, and 
the lid had sprung back a tiny crack, leaving 
plenty of room for a small wriggling snake to 
crawl through. 

Never had the school-yard looked so attractive 
to Polly Wiggles. The idea of “telling teacher” 
never entered her mind. If Gabriel had 
brought the “surprise” to school with the idea 
of being unkind and frightening her, it would 
have been different; but she knew that his inten¬ 
tions had been good, and she had been brought 
up to scorn tattling. 

Recess passed all too quickly. Unfortunately 
she had a too-active imagination, which made 
her feel its slippery length coiling around her 
neck, and it was with lagging feet that she left 
the pleasant school-yard, and took her seat for 
the painting lesson. She felt crawly all over. 
So it was with thankful heart that she heard Miss 
Mason tell her to move her painting things over 
to the end aisle where the light was better. 

Gabriel, with all memory of the snake erased 
from his mind, had been sent on an errand into 


210 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

the sixth grade, which was the highest in the 
school, for all older pupils went to the grammar 
school in Morristown. 

Polly Wiggles need not have worried, how¬ 
ever, about sitting in her own seat, for the active 
little snake no longer rustled about in the dark 
desk behind her. 

It did not take long to move paints and paper 
over to the other seat, and she heaved a sigh of 
relief as she at last settled her starched white 
skirts, and wet her paint-brush. 

In back of her sat the artist of the school, Al¬ 
lan Harrison, who was already, with joyful 
heart, engaged in coloring his beautifully 
sketched teapot a vivid yellow. 

Allan’s work was really remarkable, and sev¬ 
eral of his other sketches held place of honor on 
the bulletin board at the front of the room. 

Polly Wiggles glanced over her shoulder at 
his clever fingers, and then, with a sigh of 
despair, she hopelessly settled herself to the hated 
task. 


CHAPTER SIXTEEN 

HAIL TO THE KING AND QUEEN OF THE MAY! 

P OLLY WIGGLES’ work went poorly. 
Her sketched work looked more like an 
overgrown orange than the teapot for 
which it was intended. The colors ran and 
blurred on the erased and re-erased work until it 
was a messy, blotchy sight. Over in the next 
aisle, Alice was lovingly adding finishing 
touches to her nearly completed drawing, and 
wishing with all her heart that painting periods 
might come far oftener, and that arithmetic pe¬ 
riods could be skipped altogether. 

Polly Wiggles craned her neck to look admir¬ 
ingly at the daintily-colored teapot, and won¬ 
dered despairingly why her own work could 
never stay neat and tidy like Alice’s. 

She surveyed her paper in disgust. “It looks 
like a sunset on a foggy day,” she mused, as she 
tried to smooth the trickling threads of color that 


211 


212 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

blurred out in smudgy rays from the squat body 
of the teapot. “No one would guess in a mil¬ 
lion years that it was s’posed to be a teapot. I 
really think it looks more ‘teapotty’ upside down 
than it does right-way-about. Guess I’ll label it 
so that Miss Mason will know which way to 
look at it.” 

In a neat hand she wrote, “This is a teapot,” 
and added her name beneath in black ink, which 
unfortunately, mingled with the still wet paint, 
and produced a most peculiar and unwished-for 
effect. 

Allan leaned over her shoulder, to look with 
unflattering astonishment at the completed work 
of art. 

“What is it?” he breathed curiously in Wig¬ 
gles’ ear, leaning closer for a better view. 

Polly Wiggles stifled a giggle and pointed 
silently to the label underneath. 

“I thought it was a crook-neck squash,” 
added Allan with more honesty than politeness. 
“Hand it over, and I’ll try to smooth it out for 
you.” 

With a grateful glance, Polly Wiggles cau- 


KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 213 

tiously edged the sopping piece of paper over the 
back of her seat, and then, after thoroughly 
cleaning her brushes, settled down to study the 
next day’s spelling lesson. 

A few deft strokes from Allan’s magic paint¬ 
brush did wonders to the “squash,” but he did 
not dare add too many frills to a work not his 
own. Polly Wiggles accepted it back with joy, 
and resumed her spelling in a more contented 
frame of mind, while Allan restlessly looked 
about for new worlds to conquer. 

He had finished his painting long before, but, 
lacking anything better to do, he aimlessly added 
a soft blurred background, and wrote “Allan 
Harrison” in a dashing hand below. On an 
extra sheet of paper he started sketching at ran¬ 
dom, until his alert blue eyes were attracted by 
the beautiful American flag that hung in the 
front of the room, and he hastily set to work to 
reproduce it with his brush and colors. The 
heavy cream-colored drawing-paper was most 
unsatisfactory, and refused to show the proper 1 
white stripes between the vivid red ones. Pad 
paper was even worse, as it was crossed with nar- 


214 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

row blue lines, and the artist in him sighed for a 
sheet of plain white on which to work. Then 
suddenly his roving eyes were attracted by the 
expanse of stiff, dazzling-white linen that was 
the back of Polly Wiggles’ linen frock. With 
fascinated gaze he watched it for a full minute, 
but with him, to think was to act, and, never 
pausing to consider after-consequences, he 
rubbed his brush briskly across the red paint, 
and, unhindered by the short black curls above, 
proceeded with an artist’s delight to work on this 
novel easel. 

Allan’s deportment marks were usually 
among the best in the room. He was always 
absorbed during painting periods, so his work 
continued unchecked, for Miss Mason was bus¬ 
ily correcting arithmetic papers, and he had the 
last seat in the aisle. 

Polly Wiggles, absorbed in her speller, never 
even felt the deft touch on her back, and beneath 
his nimble, clever fingers the flag grew rapidly. 

Alice put down her paint-brush reluctantly, 
and jumped to her feet to begin gathering to- 





Beneath his nimble, clever fingers the flag grew 

RAPIDLY. — P(UJC 214. 































































. ' 
























































■ • 























KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 215 

gether the finished work from the front desks of 
each aisle, where papers were passed when com¬ 
pleted, to be laid in neat piles for the monitor to 
collect. It was great fun being a monitor and 
having the privilege of tiptoeing from one end 
of the room to the other, and arranging the 
drawings on teacher’s desk. Alice fluttered 
about like a busy bee, occasionally buzzing a 
whisper to some particular friend as she removed 
wet brushes and glasses of water. 

Miss Mason looked up with a smile at rosy 
Alice, who was a great favorite of hers. “You 
may put the teapot on the closet-shelf,” she said 
pleasantly as she accepted the pile of drawings, 
“and be careful, for it is a very fine piece of 
china, and I should hate to have it broken.” 

Alice grasped it as gingerly as if she expected 
it to explode any minute, but, in spite of all her 
care, it was the teapot’s last appearance. As 

p 

she lifted it carefully with both hands, a wicked 
little head with a swiftly darting tongue reared 
up from the spout, and with a startled shriek that 
could be heard through the entire school, the 


216 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

pretty teapot crashed to the floor, and panic- 
stricken Alice fled to the back of the room, where 
she stood shivering with fright. 

In a twinkling the class was in an uproar. 

“A snake, a snake!” shrilled frightened girls, 
clambering on their seats and gazing with 
startled eyes at the small wriggling snake that 
was as frightened as they were. 

“Some one of you boys catch it,” ordered Miss 
Mason hastily. “Quick, Allan, head it off. 
This is some of Gabriel’s doings.” 

The door into the corridor opened quietly, and 
Gabriel entered, his errand completed and noth¬ 
ing farther from his mind than the thought of 
his pet’s escape. To tell the truth, he had en¬ 
tirely forgotten bringing the snake to school. 
He stood frozen a moment in the doorway at 
sight of the uproarious class-room. Then, as 
the meaning of the excitement dawned on his 

ft 

puzzled face, his eyes sought Polly Wiggles’ 
blue ones in mute questioning. 

Miss Mason surveyed him sternly. “What 
does this mean?” she questioned sharply, rap- 


KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 217 

ping for quiet. “Shut that door quickly.— 
Look out, or it will be out in the hall.” 

Gabriel slammed the door, plunged hastily 
across the floor, and scrambled to secure his pet, 
while the class squealed in wild excitement. 

“You may take that creature outside,—and 
leave it,” Miss Mason ordered, wondering wear¬ 
ily what next the children would do. “Then 
dispose of this broken china, . . . and remain 
after dismissal to-night.” 

Gabriel stole quietly from the room with a 
very red face, to return shortly and pass ten un¬ 
comfortable minutes on his knees before the 
class as he gathered up in a dust-pan all that re¬ 
mained of the once lovely teapot. Evidently 
the snake had crawled inside and coiled down 
while the children were at recess, for the lid had 
been off when they returned, and Miss Mason 
had clapped it on, unconsciously making the 
snake a prisoner. And there he had quietly 
stayed until Alice had disturbed his resting- 
place. 

Lessons could not be resumed for quite a 


218 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

while, for it was hard to get the wildly excited 
pupils to come to order, and for snickerings and 
rustlings to calm down. Alice was still shak¬ 
ing from the shock, and worrying because she, 
the monitor of the paint-boxes, had broken the 
teapot. She felt much better after Miss Mason 
assured her that it was not her fault at all. 

Gabriel unobtrusively returned with the 
empty dust-pan and slipped into his seat with 
downcast eyes, his very ears scarlet with morti¬ 
fication. 

Every Friday afternoon was poetry afternoon, 
and four pupils were selected each week to learn 
any poem of not less than twelve lines to recite 
before the class. Poor Gabriel! It certainly 
was his unlucky day, for he despised “elocu- 
ting,” as he called it, and, unfortunately, his 
turn came first. 

Gabriel’s choice in poetry was most peculiar. 
The time before he had recited a sentimental 
ballad, with what he considered appropriate 
gestures, so the pupils waited with breathless in¬ 
terest as he unwillingly rose from his seat. 
But they broke out afresh, and even Miss Mason 


KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 219 

had to press a handkerchief to her lips, as he 
clasped his hands before him, raised his eyes to¬ 
ward the ceiling, and gloomily chanted with all 
the pathos he could put into his young voice, 
the hymn starting: 

“Hark from the tombs a doleful sound.” 

Much to Miss Mason’s relief, Alice came 
next, and she was always to be depended upon. 
She had learned “The Children’s Hour,” and 
recited so well that Miss Mason nodded ap¬ 
provingly. 

“Very good, indeed, Alice,” she smiled, “and 
you made an excellent selection. Elizabeth, 
you may copy the first two verses on the black¬ 
board.” 

Polly Wiggles jumped to her feet eagerly. 
She loved the poetry afternoons, so she started 
toward the front blackboard entirely uncon¬ 
scious of the sensation she was causing. There 
was a moment of electric silence as she picked 
up her chalk, and then the class broke into a per¬ 
fect gale of laughter, and Miss Mason turned 
to look with astonishment at the beautiful Amer- 


220 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ican flag that covered the back of Polly Wiggles’ 
frock from shoulders to waist. 

It was a cleverly painted flag, and only one 
pupil in the school could have done it. Scarlet 
stripes alternated with dazzling white ones, 
while a blue field was liberally sprinkled with 
stars; but neither Miss Mason, after her first 
startled glance, nor Polly Wiggles, when she 
discovered the cause of the commotion, quite 
appreciated its beauty. 

“Allan, you may remain with Gabriel after 
school,” announced Miss Mason grimly, switch¬ 
ing Wiggles around so she could examine the 
dress more closely, and wondering distractedly 
what had gotten into two of her best pupils. 

It was the most exciting day the class had ever 
known, and in the midst of the excitement the 
assembly-bell rang to call all the school to the 
auditorium to hear the results of the voting. 

“Whatever shall I do?” whispered Wiggles 
despairingly to Miss Mason, trying to twist 
about so as to look down her own back. 
“Everybody will laugh if I march in looking 


KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 221 

like this, but I don’t want to miss hearing the 
names read.” 

“Never mind, my dear. The paint is dry, and 
the school is so excited that you’ll not be noticed 
after you are once seated, and we march in 
among the first. I only hope that your dress is 
not ruined. I think, as it’s water-color, that it 
will come out in the wash.” 

“It’s an old dress, anyway,” returned Polly 
Wiggles, taking her place in line, and obeying 
the crisp directions, “Forward, march.” 

Hearts beat high with excitement as they 
marched into the big assembly-room where all 
the other classes in the school were gathering. 
Bows were hastily perked up, and neckties 
straightened, as one by one the pupils took their 
seats. Alice and Elizabeth, by careful maneu¬ 
vering, managed to sit side by side, and both 
twisted around to smile at Jeannette and Marion, 
who were two rows behind with the older girls. 

“There’s that horrid Jane Juggins,” whis¬ 
pered Alice softly in Polly Wiggles’ ear. “Will 
you look at her self-satisfied ’spression.” 


222 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“She looks like a cat that has swallowed a 
canary,” breathed Wiggles wickedly, choking 
back a giggle as she inspected blonde, compla¬ 
cent Jane, who was already assuming a queenly 
air. “Do look at her airs and graces, and watch 
her toss her head,—it’s killing. If she doesn’t 
look out, her barrette will fall off.” 

“Hope she won’t be queen. It would spoil 
the whole May Frolic,” responded Alice behind 
her hand. “But she’s so certain-sure, that she’s 
already asked her Maids of Honor. Would 
you think she’d dare?” 

Further conversation was checked by the ar¬ 
rival of Miss Helen, and as she mounted the 
platform-steps, Polly Wiggles felt a little thrill 
shoot down her spine. “My, what fun it would 
be!” she thought to herself, “to have one’s name 
read aloud as May Queen, and to march first in 
the big parade.” 

“Oh, oh, why doesn’t she begin?” buzzed 
Alice flouncing about in her seat impatiently. 
“I’ll burst if she doesn’t tell us soon. My hands 
are just as cold as ice, and I prickle right up to 
the roots of my hair.” 



KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 223 

Luckily for Alice’s peace of mind, Miss 
Helen chose to begin at once, and, taking up a 
big sheet of paper, she smiled at the school and 
said, “I am pleased to announce that the greatest 
number of votes have been cast for a pupil who 
has high standing both in lessons and deport¬ 
ment.” 

“Then it can’t be Jane Juggins,” muttered 
Alice with satisfaction, but quieted at a pinch 
from Polly Wiggles. 

“The largest number of votes for Queen,” re¬ 
sumed Miss Helen clearly, “were cast for Eliz¬ 
abeth Eaton. Elizabeth, will you please come 
forward so that the school may see their future 
Queen?” 

Polly Wiggles nearly jumped out of her skin. 

“I told you so,” hissed Gabriel in her ear. 
“Didn’t I vote for you?” 

“No, no, it’s a mistake,” gasped Wiggles, 
shrinking back in her seat. “She doesn’t mean 
me; it’s a mistake.” She crouched down in her 
chair, trying to make herself as small and incon¬ 
spicuous as possible, for every one was turning 
to stare at her. Seeing she made no effort to 


224 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

move, a dozen eager hands pulled her up, and 
in a daze she felt Alice give her a violent shove 
forward. 

“You’re Queen,—go up on the platform,” di¬ 
rected Alice happily. “Oh, I’m so glad; I’m so 
glad I don’t know what to do. Won’t Jane be 
furious?” Unconsciously she jumped up and 
down in her seat, until a poke from Gabriel 
brought a startled “Ouch!” from her. 

“Say, what do you think you are,—a 
jumping-jack?” he asked heatedly. 

Alice subsided hastily, after a quick glance 
around at Jane. “She looks like a thunder¬ 
storm,” she thought with satisfaction. 

As for Polly Wiggles, her knees felt like bits 
of tissue paper as she walked forward to the plat¬ 
form steps, until, like beacon-lights, she saw 
Jeannette’s happy smile and Marion’s beaming 
face, followed by their quick look of surprise as 
they spied the flag that stood out in bold relief 
against the back of her white dress. Their puz¬ 
zled expression and the buzz of astonishment 
that swept over the room acted as a bracing tonic 
to her nervous embarrassment, and, tossing her 



KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 225 

heavy black curls, she gave the school such a 
mischievous glance that Gabriel the irrepres¬ 
sible bobbed up in his seat to give three cheers 
for “Queen Polly Wiggles,” which every one 
echoed with a will; that is, all but Jane Juggins, 
who laughed disagreeably. Then, lowering 
her voice, she whispered to Kitty Lane who sat 
next to her, “Whoever chose that little Gypsy 
tomboy for a Queen? Why, she’s a fright.” 

“Well, I think she’s lovely,” returned Kitty 
with spirit. “She’s as nice as can be, and I 
voted for her, and evidently lots of others did, 
too.” 

No one was more delighted at the outcome of 
the election than Miss Helen. Polly Wiggles 
was a great favorite with all the teachers, for she 
was so natural that she chattered away as easily 
when talking to them, as she did with her best 
friends, and they all rejoiced at her good for¬ 
tune. Nevertheless, popular opinion had been 
that an older girl would receive the honors, so 
Miss Helen welcomed her with delight. 

There was a little stir of interest as Miss Ma- 

* 

son rose to her feet, and made a little announce- 


226 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ment that was not on the program. “I just 
wanted to explain that our May Queen has un¬ 
expectedly been decorated ahead of time by our 
school artist,” she told the interested audience, 
while Allan did his best to disappear from the 
laughing looks thrown in his direction. But 
he was made more miserable than ever, and 
wished the ground would open and swallow 
him, when Miss Helen rose to announce that 
“Allan Harrison had been chosen May King.” 

“Both King and Queen from our room,” 
whispered Alice rapturously; “O goody!” 

“Pooh, I knew Polly Wiggles would be 
Queen,” crowed Gabriel triumphantly, stand¬ 
ing up in his excitement and giving Allan a 
push that sent him out in the aisle more sud¬ 
denly than he expected. 

“Kitty Lane was second choice for Queen, 
and Richard Gerard for King,” announced 
Miss Helen, stepping forward to congratulate 
Elizabeth and Allan, and to offer them seats on 
the platform. 

“Now, Queen Elizabeth, will you please an¬ 
nounce the names of your Maids of Honor?” 


KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 227 

Polly Wiggles arose in blushing confusion, 
and took a graceful step forward. 

“I—I thank you for choosing me Queen,” 
she began, smiling at the many friends who were 
rejoicing with her; “and I choose for my Maids 
of Honor, Jeannette Eaton, Marion West, Alice 
Maxfield, and Kitty Lane” she finished, feeling 
it would be courteous to include the little girl 
who had been second choice for Queen, and 
whom she liked very much. 

Then the four fortunate Maids had to walk 
forward to be inspected by the school and re¬ 
ceive their share of applause, while the Queen 
laughed till deep dimples showed in each cheek 
and every curl on her head danced with ex¬ 
citement. 

It really seemed a dream to Polly Wiggles. 
Never in her wildest day-dreams had she thought 
to be the fortunate girl selected as Queen of the 
May. “Won’t Mother and Daddy be s’prised?” 
she whispered to Jeannette, who had been given 
a seat next to her sister. “And won’t it be fun 
for us to march first in the parade?” 

Jeannette gave her sister’s hand an ecstatic 


228 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

squeeze. As for Marion and Alice, they were 
nearly overcome by the unexpected honor, as 
they afterward explained. 

“Now, King Allan, call forth your three 
Courtiers, and your Herald,” prompted Miss 
Helen to the abashed King, who was greatly re¬ 
gretting his unruly paint-brush, and hoping he 
would not have to forfeit his newly-won crown 
because of his mischievous prank. 

“I proclaim Gabriel LeClare as my Herald, 
and name Dick and Billy Gerard and Hugh 
West as my Courtiers,” announced Allan in 
tones that could be heard all over the auditorium. 

“Isn’t that lovely?” whispered Jeannette. 
“We are all such good friends that we’ll have a 
lovely time. Oh, Wiggles, aren’t you happy?” 

“Happy” was not a forceful-enough word for 
what Polly Wiggles felt, she was sure. She was 
quite positive that never again would she feel 
such a tingle of rapture as that which thrilled 
her through and through when her name was 
read aloud. 

School came to an end at last. Back in the 
classroom, a disconsolate King and Herald 


KING AND QUEEN OF MAY 229 

looked longingly out of the window at the merry, 
laughing groups that surrounded the popular 
Queen, her attendants, and the Courtiers as well. 
It was hard to miss all the fun on the big day of 
days, and Allan resolutely decided to control his 
paint-brush, while Gabriel sadly vowed not to 
take any more snakes to school, in the lonely 
hour that followed. 

As for the rest of the May Day attendants, 
they raced after a panting, disheveled Queen, 
down the road that led toward The Lilacs, as 
fast as they could follow her twinkling white- 
shod feet. 


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN 


CUBBY GOES VISITING 

J EANNETTE tiptoed down the staircase 
with bated breath, and out into the pantry, 
where Hannah was making butter-balls 
for dinner. 

“We’re nearly ready to leave, Hannah,” she 
whispered, closing the pantry door behind her, 
and watching the swiftly-moving butter-paddles 
with interest. “Cubby is in bed for her nap, 
and sound asleep. Isn’t that lucky? Do let 
me roll a butter-ball.” 

“Now, Miss Jet, you’ll get your pretty dress 
all greasy,” objected Hannah anxiously, eyeing 
the red swiss dress with its narrow black-velvet 
trimming, and the scarlet straw hat laden with 
red-and-black cherries, approvingly. “There 
goes a piece on your black silk sock now!” 

“No, it didn’t; it went on my slipper,” re¬ 
turned Jeannette thankfully, “and it will rub 

230 


CUBBY GOES VISITING 231 

right off the patent leather. But I guess maybe 
I’d better not try to do it now, ’cause after we do 

our shopping, we’re all going over to call on 

> 

Mrs. MacAllister at White Birches, and so I 
mustn’t get mussed.” 

“ ’Pears to me you’re home from school 
mighty early,” remarked Hannah, clearing a 
place for Jeannette to sit down while she waited 
for the others, and peeping in at the kitchen 
clock. 

“Oh, Elizabeth and I were excused at one 
o’clock,” Jeannette explained happily, “ ’cause 
we’re going into town with Mother, Grandma, 
and Aunt Elsie, to get the materials for Eliz¬ 
abeth’s May-Queen dress, and the Maids-of- 
Honor dresses, too. Won’t it be fun? I think 
it was perfectly lovely that Wiggles got the most 
votes, and I’m so excited it seems as if I could 
hardly wait till May Day. I wish Marion, 
Alice, and Kitty could have gone with us to-day. 
but Miss Helen said she couldn’t excuse so 
many, so they asked us to get whatever we 
thought best. Mother and Grandma will de¬ 
cide. It won’t take us very long. Then we’re 


232 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

going to stop and call on Mrs. MacAllister on 
the way back, and that’s why we want to go 
while Cubby is asleep, ’cause she’ll cry and cry 
if she can’t go calling with us to see the white 
pony, and Mother says she’s too little.” 

“Dat chile knows you-all are going, jest the 
same,” put in Hannah wisely, rolling the butter 
with experienced hands. “ ’Cause yesterday 
she came down to the kitchen and done tole 
Mandy that some day soon she was going over 
to call on dat white pony and de white dog. 
She’s jest plumb crazy over them.” 

The pantry door opened a crack. 

“She’s going to be terribly disappointed,” 
sighed Polly Wiggles sadly, cautiously edging 
through the narrow space. “I do hope she’ll 
take a long, long nap, ’cause if she finds us all 
gone when she wakes up, she’ll guess where we 
are right away, and be heartbroken. She heard 
Grandma say that Mrs. McAllister had asked us 
all to come over. She’s teased and teased to go 
with us ever since, and, though Mother said 
‘no,’ she’s been playing ‘lady-going-visiting’ 
ever since. Mother promised to take her over 


CUBBY GOES VISITING 233 

the next time she went, but that didn’t seem to 
satisfy her a bit. I never saw her so possessed 
to go anywhere before, did you, Jet?” 

Hannah laid down her paddles long enough 
to inspect Polly Wiggles from head to foot. 

“You both suah looks like red robins to-day, 
’pears to me,” she said, smiling broadly. “Dat 
white swiss o’ Miss Elizabeth’s all sprinkled 
ovah with red dots, and trimmed with dat nar¬ 
row red-velvet ribbon, and those bobbin’ red 
cherries on dat scrumptious white straw hat 
looks good enough to eat. Ah don’t know 
which dress is prettiest—Ah declare Ah don’t.” 

Wiggles placed one white-shod foot on the 
edge of Jeannette’s chair, and sprang nimbly up 
beside the butter-crock, despite Hannah’s ohs 
and ahs of protest,—where she sat swinging her 
red pocketbook to and fro. 

“You know—,” she began, but was inter¬ 
rupted as the pantry door opened the third time, 
to admit Mrs. Eaton. 

“Run along, children,” she told them, stop¬ 
ping to adjust the narrow red-velvet streamers 
on Elizabeth’s saucy hat. “Grandma and Aunt 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


234 

Elsie are already in the car, and we want to get 
off as quietly as possible. Cubby is sleeping 
nicely, Hannah, and if you peep in at her oc¬ 
casionally, it will be all right to finish your work 
down here first. If she wakes, let her play in 
the Forget-me-not room so she won’t see us when 
we stop at White Birches. She’ll be heart¬ 
broken if she sees us all go and she has to stay 
home. I wish it wasn’t Mandy’s day out, but 
we had to go when the children could be ex¬ 
cused from school.” 

Cubby had been suspicious all morning. 
She smelled excitement in the air, and had only 
gone to bed under strong urging, but, though 
the girls subdued their giggles, the closing of the 
car-door wakened her, and she lifted her head 
to listen. But she screwed her eyelids tight to¬ 
gether and was apparently sleeping soundly 
when Hannah poked an inquiring head in the 
“Nest,” to gaze at her. Though her eyes were 
closed, Cubby’s mind was working busily, put¬ 
ting two and two together, and as soon as Han¬ 
nah had departed kitchenward, up she sprang, 


CUBBY GOES VISITING 235 

to run from one bedroom to the other, her bare 
feet making no noise on the soft rugs. 

“Gone,” said she, her lips quivering. “Gone, 
—to call on the white pony,—and they didn’t 
take me.” Two large tears brimmed in the big 
eyes and slid slowly down the rosy cheeks, for 
the disappointment was keen. 

“That boy’s muvver,” she continued, meaning 
Mrs. MacAllister, “told my own Mayma to 
bring all the gur-rls over to see her. She didn’t 
say, ‘Bring Jet and Wiggles and leave Cubby 
home.’ No, indeed, she said ‘all,’ and ‘all’ 
means me, too.” 

A quick rummaging through her sisters’ 
closet revealed still another fact,—their new 
swiss dresses and pretty cherry-trimmed hats 
were gone. Her tears changed to anger. 

“They’ve gone all dessed up in their bestest 
desses and wed cherry hats,” said she, with curl¬ 
ing lip and flashing eyes, “and left me home all 
by self—in a nightgown. Guess I’ll dess up 
and go call on the pony, too, before they get 
there.” 



236 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Peeping out of the window in the Daisy 
room, she spied the white collie strolling across 
the green lawn opposite, and the sight rekindled 
her determination. 

“Maybe that boy’s muvver thinks I’m an itty 
bitty baby ’bout so long,” she fumed, measuring 
off a scant six inches with her hands. “Maybe 
she thinks I wear long desses and sleep in a crib. 
I’ll show her I’m just as big a gur-rl as Jet and 
Wiggles, ’cause I sleep in a real bed, and I know 
how to go a-calling, too. All you have to do is 
to take a ticket and leave it at the door, and then 
they will let you go in. Maybe Jet and Wiggles 
didn’t ’member to take tickets.” 

That idea was a pleasing one. In her mind’s 
eye she saw Jet and Polly Wiggles, all dressed up 
in their dainty frocks, appearing at the door of 
White Birches without calling-cards,—or tick¬ 
ets, as she called them,'—and being waved away, 
while she herself presented the maid with a 
magic bit of pasteboard, and in a grown-up man¬ 
ner walked in under her sisters’ astonished 
stares. 

But what should she wear? Her own frocks 



CUBBY GOES VISITING 237 

were discarded after one quick look,—they were 
too plainly little-girl dresses. She didn’t have 
a red swiss and a cherry hat in which to look 
grown up,—oh, no, indeed. She didn’t have 
anything but fine white dresses,—just like a 
baby,—but she’d show them. 

After repeated visits to Grandma’s and Aunt 
Elsie’s closets, she decided upon a jade-green 
silk petticoat of her grandmother’s, which swept 
the floor when put over her nightdress, and a 
beaded orange overblouse of her mother’s that 
fell nearly down to her knees. A dainty rose- 
pink breakfast-jacket of Aunt Elsie’s, that she 
had long admired, went on over the orange 
waist, which showed several inches beneath; 
“In case I should be cold,” she murmured con¬ 
tentedly, although the day was extremely warm. 
Aunt Elsie’s best gold-brocade evening slippers 
were put on next, over her own red bedroom 
slippers. As even then they were far too 
large, she tied them over each instep with Polly 
Wiggles’ pink hair-ribbons, and then started her 
search for a hat. 

She was sure that the others had gone shop- 




238 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ping to buy the dress-materials, and she knew 
that she only had a short time, so she worked fe¬ 
verishly, looking in boxes and on closet-shelves, 
and pulling things out till the rooms were in a 
jumble. A few weeks before Grandma Carr 
had purchased a purple toque covered with vi¬ 
olets, and Cubby had longed ever since to try it 
on her own curly head. Now was her oppor¬ 
tunity,—and then, too, it was a very grown-up¬ 
looking hat. At last she spied it on Grandma’s 
top shelf, and, pulling a stool to the closet, up 
she clambered, dragging down a mink choker 
as well, that she pounced upon with glee. 

The toque was large,—so large that it com¬ 
pletely covered her head and fell to her chin, 
disconcerting her for a minute; but Cubby was 
ingenious. 

“ ’Spect it’s ’cause I haven’t long hair pinned 
up top,” she mused, pondering deeply. A 
bright idea popped into her mind. Aunt Elsie 
had been in an “Old Folks Concert” a short time 
before, and Cubby had seen her dressed in an 
old-fashioned frock, with white hair piled high 
on top of her head. “The white hair isn’t my 


CUBBY GOES VISITING 239 

own,” Aunt Elsie had explained, laughing at 
her little niece’s look of horror at seeing Auntie 
“grown old” so suddenly. “It’s false white hair 
that I bought at the store, and pinned on. All 
my own hair is underneath.” 

Into Aunt Elsie’s room she scurried, and, 
after ransacking the bureau-drawers, at last she 
found the white switch and puffs tucked away in 
a big box where they had been put to stay until 
used again for another masquerade. Over her 
own mop of gold curls went the long switch, 
pinned on with dozens of Mother’s bronze hair¬ 
pins. When the large puffs were added, the ef¬ 
fect was most impressive,—to Cubby’s idea of 
thinking,—though slightly marred by the short 
golden curls that would peep out over her ears. 

The violet toque stayed in place with the white 
hair to pad it up, and, pulling on a new pair of 
white kid gloves that she had found in her 
search, she hurried over to the cheval-glass to 
view the effect, adding Aunt Elsie’s coral beads 
and long ear-rings to match, although she had a 
struggle screwing the ear-rings in her ears. 

“No one would take me for an itty gur-rl 


240 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

now,” she purred contentedly, spilling half a 
bottle of her mother’s best perfume over her 
dress and shaking the powder-box violently. “I 
looks just like a Mayma.” 

Grandmother Carr would not have felt flat¬ 
tered at the comparison. She never wore ear¬ 
rings herself, but to Cubby they were the last 
touch required toward completing her costume, 
and she gazed at her reflection approvingly. 

It was at that moment that her eyes fell upon 
Boots, who sat looking out of the front window 
with what she decided was a lonesome expres¬ 
sion, but which was really sleepiness. 

“Poor Boots,” she cooed sweetly, “did they 
leave you home, too? Would you like to go 
a-visiting to call on the booful white pony and 
the doggie?” 

It spoke much for Boot’s disposition, as in ten 
minutes’ time his small mistress had attired him 
in a doll’s blue-gingham dress, from Polly Wig¬ 
gles’ doll’s trunk, as well as a baby bonnet, four 
mittens on his paws, and a white lace veil. 

Then, catching up a blue parasol of Jean¬ 
nette’s in one hand, and the big pocketbook that 


CUBBY GOES VISITING 241 

Grandma used for marketing, and holding the 
protesting Boots tightly in the other, the wee 
bear stole cautiously down the front stairs, hop¬ 
ing against hope that she would find the coast 
clear and escape by the front door before Han¬ 
nah spied her. She tripped and nearly fell sev¬ 
eral times, owing to the length of her dress, 
while her struggle in clothing Boots had rather 
damaged her costume, but her spirit was un¬ 
daunted. 

“Oh, my ticket,” she murmured distractedly, 
pausing in the front hall and looking back un¬ 
certainly. “I forgot to ’member it, and what 
shall I do?” 

She knew it would take far too long to go back 
up-stairs, especially with the heavy and violently 
struggling Boots in one arm, and she was afraid 
to put him down for fear he would run away. 
Strange to say, in spite of his “lonesome” expres¬ 
sion, Boots did not seem anxious to go calling. 
So it was with a thankful heart that she noticed 
the plate of calling cards on the hall console- 
table. It took but a minute to select one, with 
“Mrs. Clayton Campbell” engraved upon it. 


242 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Of course the name meant nothing to Cubby,— 
she was attracted solely by the black border 
around it, which she greatly admired. 

Then, pausing to adjust Grandpa’s shell- 
rimmed glasses over her mischievous brown 
eyes, and to fix the mink choker that added the 
final touch to her costume, Cubby crept out, not 
quite half an hour having passed since Hannah 
had seen her “napping” in bed. 

Barely had the front door closed behind her, 
when Hannah opened the door from the kitchen, 
only to pause as the back door burst open, and 
Andy, the gardener, came hurrying in with a 
badly burned hand from a bonfire he had been 
making. 

“Stop your groanin’ or you’ll be wakin’ Miss 
Evelyn,” scolded Hannah, glancing up toward 
the door of the “Nest,” which Cubby had 
thoughtfully closed behind her. “She’s havin’ 
a fine nap, and if you’ll set down quietly, Ah’ll 
fix your hand and bandage it so it will feel more 
easy.” 

Andy sank into a chair as he was bid, and, 
never doubting but that her small charge was 


CUBBY GOES VISITING 243 

safely tucked away in bed, Hannah flew to find 
bandages and oil. 

While teetering along unsteadily on the high 
French heels of her “borrowed” slippers, a 
ridiculous little figure crossed the road, and 
crept up the broad steps of the beautiful home— 
White Birches. 


CHAPTER EIGHTEEN 


AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 

M RS. MACALLISTER glanced from 
the black-bordered calling-card to 
the shaking shoulders of Martha, 
the maid. Try as she might, she could recol¬ 
lect no “Mrs. Clayton Campbell” of her ac¬ 
quaintance. 

“It’s a little girl, ma’am,” Martha explained 
hastily, “and in the queerest get-up you ever did 
see. But she handed me the card and asked for 
Mrs. MacAllister with such a grand air, that I 
showed her into the music-room.” 

Mrs. MacAllister descended the staircase 
hastily, and paused in the music-room doorway 
with twitching lips, as a queer little figure, 
clutching a violently agitated bundle, slid to its 
feet and advanced with high-held hand. 

“How do you do,” said Cubby formally. 
“I’ve come to call.” 

244 



AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 245 

“Won’t you have a seat?” murmured Mrs. 
MacAllister, controlling her amusement with 
difficulty, and casting an apprehensive glance at 
the violet toque, which, with the white hair, had 
slid over one of Cubby’s ears, giving her a rak¬ 
ish appearance of which she was entirely un¬ 
conscious. 

“I am derry well, thank you,” returned the 
visitor calmly, boxing Boots’ ears with vigor to 
quiet him, and clambering with much puffing 
and panting into a high wing-chair. 

“I do wonder who the cunning baby is,” 
thought Mrs. MacAllister with enjoyment, 
stealing a look at the demure visitor, who sat 
bolt upright on the edge of the big chair. “Her 
face looks familiar, but in that rig it’s hard to 
identify her.” 

Donald, on his way to the porch, glanced in 
casually, and then, with a twinkle in his dark 
eyes, strolled forward to have a better view of 
this self-possessed caller, who was greatly en¬ 
joying the sensation she was creating. 

“Donald, this is—this is—,” Mrs. MacAllis¬ 
ter began uncertainly, but paused abruptly. It 


246 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

would be too ridiculous to say, “Mrs. Clayton 
Campbell,”—and yet who was this cunning, 
mischievous youngster, with her highly amusing 
grown-up airs that contrasted so strongly with 
her dimpled baby face. 

“I am Evelyn Eaton,” announced Cubby 
easily, drawing a black-bordered handkerchief 
from her bag and wiping her nose with a flour¬ 
ish that nearly upset Donald’s gravity. He 
stooped hastily to conceal his amused face, and 
to pick up two mittens which Boots had lost in 
his frantic struggles. 

“Are these yours?” he asked, not daring to 
glance at his mother, whose shoulders were 
heaving suspiciously. “They look as if they 
had dropped from the—the— What is it, any¬ 
way?” he inquired curiously, eyeing the uneasy, 
wriggling bundle from which a plaintive 
“meow” had issued. 

Cubby twitched the baby bonnet about and 
threw back the lace veil, revealing an unhappy 
furry face which she proceeded to dust off with 
her black-bordered handkerchief, much to 
Boots’ discomfort. 


’AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 247 

“It’s Boots,” she explained gravely, as she cast 
a lightning glance about the attractive room; 
“and I brought him over to call on the pony and 
the lovely white doggie. He was lonesome,” 
she finished, looking from one interested face to 
the other with wide, dark eyes. 

“That was very thoughtful of you,” assured 
Mrs. MacAllister, completely charmed with the 
child. “Now, suppose we have afternoon tea 
together, and then we’ll all go out and visit the 
ponies. How would that be?” 

Cubby’s smile was ecstatic. Never had she 
dreamed of being served afternoon tea like a 
real, grown-up young lady. What a lot she 
would have to tell Wiggles and Jet! But 
would she dare stay? She had no desire to meet 
Mother, Grandma, and the rest, face to face, 
until safely home again, for she knew very well 
that punishment would follow her naughty es¬ 
capade,—and follow quickly. 

“I—I think maybe I’d better be going,” she 
ventured uncertainly, sliding to the floor and 
losing one gold slipper with a bang. 

“Oh, you’ve only been here a few minutes,” 


248 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

urged Donald, eager to keep her talking. He 
stooped as he spoke to tie her slippers on more 
securely, and completely won the wee bear’s 
heart by the grown-up, dignified manner in 
which he assisted her back into her high chair. 

“Just as if I was a real lady,” she thought 
gleefully. “Guess I’ll stay and have tea and see 
the ponies after all. It will be a long, long time 
before Mother and Mayma will be here.” 

“I used to know your mother and Aunt Elsie 
well, when I was a little girl,” Mrs. MacAllister 
continued, hoping that she would be able to re¬ 
member all the details of her visitor’s remark¬ 
able costume after she had gone. 

“You have sisters, too, haven’t you?” chimed 
in Donald, anxious to hear more about the girl 
that could turn cart-wheels better than most boys. 

Cubby drew herself up with a grand air, 
while, parrot-like, there dropped from her lips a 
sentence that she had heard Hannah use only 

i 

that morning in speaking to the laundress’ 
daughter, who was the eldest of eight. 

“Oh, yes, but it isn’t an easy thing to be the 
oldest of a family, for you have—you have— 


AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 249 

’sponsibilities,” she finally brought out triumph¬ 
antly, the word having nearly eluded her. 

Donald choked, but politely turned it into a 
cough. “Oh, are you the oldest?” he ques¬ 
tioned, to keep her talking. 

“Oh, yes. I’m a hundred,” she returned un¬ 
expectedly, pushing back the spectacles that 
would slip off her nose. 

Mrs. MacAllister bit her lip. “And your 
sisters, how old are they?” she asked in carefully 
controlled tones. 

“Oh, they’re only itty gur-rls,” the wee bear 
responded. Then, lest conversation might lan¬ 
guish, she added sorrowfully, “And sometimes 
they’re derry naughty.” 

“That’s too bad. What do they do?” in¬ 
quired Mrs. MacAllister, duly shocked at 
Cubby’s horrified tone. 

“Well, sometimes they run away,” returned 
Cubby virtuously, smoothing her skirt with a 
solemn air. Then, as the conversation seemed 
in danger of becoming a bit too personal, she 
changed the subject abruptly. 

“This is a pitty house, but you have a drefful 


250 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

lot of windows to wash,” she announced sud¬ 
denly, just as Martha entered, wheeling the tea- 
wagon. 

Martha, with shaking shoulders and a hasty 
cough, left the room at a low-voiced remark 
from Mrs. MacAllister, and Cubby gazed after 
her thoughtfully. 

“You know, I fink maybe your maid is sick,” 
she confided in a stage whisper to the delighted 
Donald. “Her face is all wed, and she shakes 
all over as if she had chills and fever,—and she 
coughed, too.” 

“Maybe she’s getting whooping-cough,” sug¬ 
gested Donald joyously. “Have you ever 
had it?” 

Cubby shot him a suspicious glance, but his 
face was perfectly sober. 

“Yes, I’ve had it, years and years ago when I 
was only an itty gur-rl ’bout three,” she replied 
severely. “You cough and cough and cough, 
and sometimes you throw up, too. Does your 
maid throw up?” 

“I—I don’t think so. I guess she just has a 
cold,” returned Mrs. MacAllister unsteadily as 



AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 251 

she poured three cups of cocoa and topped each 
with big spoonfuls of whipped cream, while 
Cubby eyed the dainty plate of cakes with satis¬ 
faction. “Do—do you care for cocoa and 
cakes?” 

“Oh, yes, I like frosted cakes derry much, 
thank you. And cocoanut cake, and cheese, 
and mince pie, and bananas better’n anything 
else,” continued Cubby rapidly, naming over 
with much gusto all the things that she was not 
allowed to eat, and which she coveted. “Do the 
ponies like bananas?” 

“No, but they love apples, and we’ll give them 
each one when we go out to see them,” Donald 
smiled, handing her a gold-and-white cup of 
cocoa and passing the cakes. 

Cubby stirred her cocoa into swirling eddies, 
unmindful of the greedy glance that Boots was 
giving it. It was the first thing Boots had seen 
all that sad afternoon that interested him at all, 
and the nearness to the whipped cream was more 
than he could resist. Down went the baby bon¬ 
net over the cup, and into the froth of cream and 
cocoa went Boots’ furry face and pink tongue. 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


252 

“Naughty Boots, aren’t you ’shamed?” 
scolded Cubby in disgust as he lifted creamy 
whiskers and a cocoa-smeared nose from his 
stolen feast. 

“Let me get your kitty a saucer,” suggested 
Mrs. MacAllister. “I didn’t know that he en¬ 
joyed cocoa, too, or I would have given him 
some before.” 

“He’s young, and hasn’t derry good table- 
manners,” faltered Cubby hastily, wiping 
Boots’ whiskers with the dainty tea-napkin on 
her lap, in a panic at this unexpected breach of 
etiquette. 

It was unfortunate that at this moment Bingo, 
the white collie, should have come strolling in, 
unperceived by the others. He eyed the un¬ 
easy bundle in Cubby’s lap casually at first, un¬ 
certain as to what it might be. It moved,—yet 
it did not look like any cat he had ever seen be¬ 
fore. Then, just as he raised his head to utter a 
warning growl, the object lifted a furry head 
from which two green eyes glared defiantly at 
him, and his doubt changed to a certainty. 
There was a scamper of feet across the polished 



y y 


“Oh, YES, I LIKE FROSTED CAKES DERRY MUCH 


Page 251 









AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 253 

floor, a huge white shape planted two paws right 
in the cup on Cubby’s lap, sending a trickling 
stream of cocoa to the floor, while a flying bun¬ 
dle of fur and lace veil gave a quick leap to the 
piano, where it stood spitting violently and utter¬ 
ing deep-throated yowls. 

Alas for Cubby! Time had flown only too 
rapidly, and right in the midst of the excitement, 
in walked Grandmother, Mother, and the rest. 
They stood in startled amazement at the tableau 
that confronted them, and at sight of the piteous 
little figure that climbed down from a big chair 
and stood facing them with tearful eyes. If ever 
guilt was written on any one’s face, it was on 
Cubby’s, in spite of its smeary appearance. 
But not even the mixture of tears, cocoa, and 
frosting could disguise her from her mother’s 
eyes. 

“I—I guess I’d better be going,” she gasped, 
sidling rapidly toward the front door, as Don¬ 
ald grabbed Bingo, who was making frantic ef¬ 
forts to climb up on the piano. 

“Cubby!” ejaculated all three ladies in hor¬ 
rified tones. 


254 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“If it isn’t my new violet hat!” exclaimed 
Grandma Carr. 

“And my gold-brocaded slippers,” put in 
Aunt Elsie. “Cubby, you wretch!” 

“Oh, oh, oh! What is that?” stammered 
Jeannette, pointing to a long gray tail that pro¬ 
truded from an animated bundle of blue ging¬ 
ham. The bundle spit violently as Wiggles 
darted forward and peeped under the bonnet. 

“It’s—it’s Boots,” she gasped, hardly believ¬ 
ing her eyes. “Oh, Cubby, how could you be 
so naughty?” 

“I—I was making a call,” hiccoughed the wee 
bear as Grandmother and Mother swooped 
down upon her. “I—oh, I didn’t mean to drop 
the cocoa.” Her day of judgment had come 
sooner than she expected. 

“Please don’t scold her,” implored Mrs. Mac- 
Allister as she cordially greeted her friends. 
“You can’t imagine how I have enjoyed her 
visit, and the spilled cocoa was entirely Bingo’s 
fault. Donald, will you please tell Martha to 
clear up the debris.” 

“I must apologize, Marie, for my bad baby,” 




AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 255 

Mrs. Eaton began, looking sorrowfully at the 
naughty culprit, who sniffed back her tears with 
all dignity forgotten. “After all these years I 
had hoped to renew our friendship again this 
afternoon, but I’ll have to excuse myself and 
take Evelyn home.” 

“I’ll attend to Cubby,” put in Grandma Carr 
briskly, seizing Boots from the piano and trying 
not to smile at the absurd little figure that gazed 
piteously at her. “You and Elsie and the chil¬ 
dren stay and have your visit.” Through the 
window she glanced across toward The Lilacs, 
where she could see Hannah running excitedly 
down the path. “I’ll go and reassure Hannah 
as to Cubby’s safety, and dispose of the family 
wardrobe that she has borrowed.” She lifted 
off the violet toque, white hair and all, as she 
spoke, revealing the rumpled gold of Cubby’s 
own soft curls beneath. 

Cubby suddenly remembered her manners. 
“I—I didn’t mean to be bad,” she gulped sor¬ 
rowfully, “and—and I’ve had a derry nice visit, 
and p-please give the ponies my love. Oh, I did 
want to pat them!” she wailed, her tears break- 


256 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ing out afresh. It was too much, to be deprived 
of the delicious refreshments of which she had 
only had a taste, to miss seeing the ponies after 
all her anticipation, and to be taken home in dis¬ 
grace, with such a disastrous ending to her lovely 
visit. Her lip quivered as she looked longingly 
at the little frosted cakes that now Jet and Wig¬ 
gles would enjoy. Donald could not resist the 
tear-filled dark eyes. 

“Never you mind, Cubby,” he whispered 
softly in her ear, wondering how any one could 
have the heart to scold her. “Keep a stiff upper 
lip, and I’ll come over and give you a ride with 
the ponies just as soon as your mother says you 
may go.” 

The wee bear’s face brightened as if by magic. 
She shot an adoring, grateful glance at this big 
boy who had not laughed at her a bit, and who 
had treated her with as much deference as if she 
were a real grown-up young lady. 

“Cubby,” broke in Mrs. MacAllister, leaning 
over to kiss her cocoa-stained cheek, “I want you 
to come over to see me again soon. Miss Helen 
has told me about the May Frolic, and has in- 


AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 257 

vited Donald to join the games in the afternoon. 
You know he’s going to feel very lonesome that 
day when all the other young people are eating a 
picnic luncheon in the meadows. So I wonder 
if you and Mother, Aunt Elsie and Grandma, 
couldn’t come over and have a May Day lunch¬ 
eon with us, and then we’ll all drive over to see 
the crowning of the Queen. Don’t you think 
that would be fun?” 

Cubby’s eyes danced at the idea, and she gave 
a rainbow smile. It wouldn’t be quite so hard 
to leave the tea-party and take the punishment 
bound to follow, with the lovely luncheon to 
look forward to. 

“Oh, oh, oh, thank you derry, derry much,” 
she breathed happily, balancing herself on the 
tottery heels and dropping a curtsy, as she had 
been taught. 

“Come, Cubby,” began Grandma firmly, but 
the small sinner paused once more as she 
reached the door, and looked back wistfully. 

“I think,” she piped clearly, gazing approv¬ 
ingly at Donald, “that you are a derry nice itty 
boy;” and amid the sudden laughter that fol- 


258 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

lowed her grandmother bore her hastily away. 

“I do think she’s the cunningest little girl I 
ever saw,” Donald repeated enthusiastically half 
an hour later, as he followed Jeannette and Eliz¬ 
abeth, to whom he had been introducing the 
ponies, through the French doors into the music- 
room, where Mrs. MacAllister, Aunt Elsie, and 
Mrs. Eaton had been having a cozy chat to¬ 
gether. 

“She’s a very mischievous one,” put in Mrs. 
Eaton ruefully, with a sorrowful shake of her 
head and a smile at Donald, who had been much 
amused at Cubby’s escapade. 

“Now don’t you punish her, Jean,” pleaded 
Mrs. MacAllister appealingly. “She’s a per¬ 
fect darling, and I never enjoyed a call so much 
in my life. You know she puts me so much in 
mind of Elsie when she was that age and used to 
steal your little chocolate-pot. Only Elsie’s 
eyes were blue instead of brown, but they had 
the same twinkle. If you ever could have heard 
the grown-up manner in which Cubby assured 
us she was a hundred-” 



AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 259 

“Or seen the cat’s expression when he saw the 
cocoa,’’ broke in Donald mischievously, as 
Martha, trying to look as if nothing unusual had 
happened, appeared again with the tea-wagon 
and passed fresh cocoa and cakes to the visitors. 
“But, honestly, she was the pluckiest youngster 
that I ever saw. Most children would have 
screamed when that great big dog rushed across 
the room and jumped at her when he tried to get 
Boots. She never gave a peep.” 

“I strongly suspect it was because she saw 
that ‘fate was upon her,’ as we appeared just 
then. Did you ever see such a get-up in your 
life?” laughed Aunt Elsie, helping herself to a 
frosted cake. “The idea of that little scamp 
hunting up that white hair and that new violet 
hat of Mother’s. She’s been possessed for that 
hat ever since she saw it.” 

“I think, myself, that the black-bordered 
calling-card was the crowning touch,” replied 
Mrs. MacAllister with much enjoyment, and a 
twinkle in her brown eyes. “I visualized a 
widow in her fifties at least, the name sounded so 


260 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

impressive, and when I saw that cunning 
mite—” Words failed her, and she paused to 
laugh again at the recollection. 

Wiggles and Jeannette giggled. They 
couldn’t help but see the funny side of the prank, 
although at first they had been overcome with 
mortification. Mrs. MacAllister had been so 
charming, however, and so enthusiastic in her 
praises of their naughty little sister, that she had 
put them at ease immediately. Still it was too 
bad that this should have happened the first time 
they met this delightful friend of their mother’s 
girlhood days, and the handsome, interesting 
boy who had lived all over the globe. 

“I’m glad she approves of my nice little son,’’ 
Mrs. MacAllister said, glancing mischievously 
at the tall boy as she accented the “little.” 

Polly Wiggles stole a look at Donald from 
under her long lashes, as she daintily drank 
her cocoa. He certainly was the most self- 
possessed boy she had ever met,—but no wonder. 
No one else she had ever known had traveled 
from country to country with a tutor, as she had 
heard Grandmother Carr say this lad had done 


AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 261 

ever since his baby days. You couldn’t call any 
boy who had lived in as many lands as she had 
studied about in her geography, an everyday 

boy, and yet he didn’t seem a bit “stuck-up” 
either. 

“Have a cake,” broke in Donald, holding out 
a plate of plummy, tempting little cakes that 
could not be resisted. “You could jolly well eat 
a dozen of these, they’re so small, and still be 
hungry.” 

“They’re delicious,” returned Jeannette, look¬ 
ing about the interesting room with a little thrill 
of pleasure. It was even lovelier than she im¬ 
agined,—truly an Enchanted Palace. 

“I’m so glad that we have a home at last,” con¬ 
tinued Donald with satisfaction, eating three 
cakes in rapid succession and glancing approv¬ 
ingly at the cherry-trimmed hats. “It seems 
jolly to be in America to stay,—and to think that 
next fall I’ll really go to school like other boys. 
It’s too late to start this spring,” he finished re¬ 
gretfully. 

Polly Wiggles opened her blue eyes wide. 
“Why, I thought you had a tutor,” she began, 


262 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

wondering why any boy should express the hope 
of going to school in such a happy voice. 

“Used to have,” corrected Donald. “It was 
only because we were always on the move,” he 
explained hastily, seeing their look of interest. 
“You see, we’d be a month in one place, then 
two months somewhere else, and so on; and I 
couldn’t keep changing schools like that.” 

“But didn’t you love traveling?” asked Jean¬ 
nette. 

“Y-yes, it was great seeing different places, 
but it was hard to make friends and then go away 
and leave them, and have to start in getting ac¬ 
quainted all over again.” 

“Donald, I have an idea,” broke in Mrs. 
MacAllister suddenly, clapping her hands like 
a girl. “Elizabeth is to be May Queen on 
May Day, and she and her Maids of Honor are 
to march first in the parade. But who ever 
heard of a Queen—walking?” 

Donald’s eyes sparkled. “Of course not,” he 
burst out enthusiastically. “Imagine a Queen 
plodding along on foot. Why, she must have 
a beautiful chariot, drawn by white ponies-” 




AN INTERRUPTED TEA-PARTY 263 

“And the chariot must be a bower of flowers, 
and the ponies must wear white harness,” con¬ 
tinued Mrs. MacAllister, watching Wiggles’ 
shining eyes and Jeannette’s happy face. 
“Now, Jean, don’t you dare say ‘No’ to all my 
lovely plans. I have always wanted a daughter 
to fuss over, and instead I have a big husky son, 
who simply can’t wear frilly dresses and flowery 
hats. Now you see this solves the problem, and 
I’ll simply borrow your girls and pretend that 
Don has three sisters.” 

“That would be bully,” beamed Donald, 
charmed at the idea. “It’s lonesome being an 
only child, I can tell you.” 

“It’s lovely of you, offering the ponies,” re¬ 
turned Mrs. Eaton, who saw the delight in the 
children’s faces at the idea. “But-” 

“No ‘buts’ about it,” said Mrs. MacAllister 
gayly. “You couldn’t deprive me of such a 
pleasure. The ponies are as gentle as kittens, 
and if you will let us know your color-scheme, 
the chariot will await the command of Queen 
Elizabeth and her attendants on May Day morn¬ 
ing. Donald and I will decorate it, and it will 



264 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

give us a real ‘homey’ feeling to be able to have 
a finger in the pie.” 

So it was settled, and as soon as the call was 
over, two happy, excited children raced over to 
Sweet Briar to tell the news to Alice, Marion, 
and Kitty. 

“Well,” said Alice solemnly, pinching herself 
hard to be sure it was true, “I don’t mind so much 
now that Donald isn’t a girl. He certainly 
looks like a Prince Charming, and his mother is 
just exactly as good as a Fairy Godmother, to 
think of anything as lovely as that. Now sit 
down and tell us every single thing about your 

• • 9 9 

visit. 


CHAPTER NINETEEN 


MAY-BASKETS 

T HE clock in the hall chimed four as the 
sun peeped over the hills and into the 
windows of the Forget-me-not room, 
where Jeannette and Elizabeth were sleeping 
soundly. 

Birds were already twittering sleepily, and the 
lilac-plumes along the pathway nodded to the 
syringa-bushes opposite, as if to wish a gay good 
morning. A fat robin went running across the 
dewy lawn, busily searching for his early- 
morning breakfast, while a plump gray squirrel 
did the acrobatic feats that constituted his “daily 
dozen” on the limb of the big oak-tree that 
tapped and whispered against the bedroom 
window. 

Suddenly through the early-morning silence 
came the tinkle of a banjo and the soft strum- 
strum of a ukelele, punctuated at intervals by 

265 


266 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


snorts and giggles and a mysterious banging and 
clashing. Jeannette turned over uneasily, and 
Polly Wiggles sat up in bed with a jerk, rubbing 
sleepy, bewildered eyes and pushing back 
tangled curls from her face. 

“For goodness’ sake, Jet, wake up,” she whis¬ 
pered imperatively, leaning over to the other 
twin bed and giving her drowsy sister a soft 
pinch. “Listen to that clashing and banging. 
What can it be?” 

Jeannette stirred restlessly and opened one 
sleepy eye. “It’s—why, it’s music,” she replied 
in a much surprised tone of voice, stifling a yawn 
and listening to the plunk-plunk-plunk beneath 
the windows. “Why, Wiggles, if it isn’t May 
Day!” 

“So it is,” responded the May Queen, putting 
one foot out of bed and groping about for her 
blue bedroom slippers. “ ‘The more haste, the 
less speed,’ ” she quoted with a little giggle, as 
she dived under the bed and emerged trium¬ 
phantly with the elusive slippers in her grasp. 
“Look how light it is, Jet; it must be time to get 
up. I’m going to see what that noise is, anyway; 



MAY-BASKETS 267 

it sounds like a circus. Where is my kimono?” 

“What in the world is going on at this early 
hour!” exclaimed Grandmother Carr’s aston¬ 
ished voice from the hall. “It’s only four 
o’clock in the morning, and I thought by that 
racket it was eight at least.” 

“Children,” called Mrs. Eaton, appearing 
through the doorway, struggling into her dainty 
yellow kimono, “it’s those ridiculous boys, and I 
do believe they’re giving you a serenade. We’re 
all so wide-awake that we might just as well get 
up and peep out at them. Slip into your kimo¬ 
nos and slippers.” 

Dr. Eaton thrust a tousled head through the 
door. “The young rascals,” he yawned, “the 
idea of waking up respectable people at this un¬ 
earthly hour. I suppose this is in honor of the 
May Queen; that’s what I get for entertaining 
royalty unawares. Just look what you’ve let us 
in for, Woggsie. Come along, Cubby; I’ll hold 
you up so you can see.” 

Jeannette sighed blissfully as she scrambled 
into her blue kimono and donned slippers with 
pompons to match. “I never dreamed that any- 


268 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

thing so grown-uppy would happen to us, did 
you, Wiggles? It’s just lovely being in a May 
Frolic.” 

“Listen, oh, listen,” laughed Grandfather, 
joining the “nightgown brigade,” as Dr. Eaton 
called it, and followed by Grandmother and 
Aunt Elsie in the first things they could lay their 
hands on. “I thought I heard a familiar note. 
They’re starting the music of ‘For I’m to be 
Queen of the May,’ sure as I live.” 

Polly Wiggles and Jeannette dashed to the 
window and peeped through the curtains, sti¬ 
fling giggles that nearly overcame them, as they 
looked in round-eyed amazement at the group 
below. 

Gabriel and Dick, with cheeks puffed to the 
bursting-point, were playing away as if their 
lives depended upon it, on combs over which 
tissue paper had been placed. Donald was 
strumming on a banjo, and Billy and Allan 
joined in with thumps and chords on their 
“ukes,” while Hugh gave an occasional bang on 
a dish-pan he carried as a drum, or a clash to a 
pair of pot-lids he was using as cymbals. What 


* 


MAY-BASKETS 269 

he lacked in music he made up in volume, and 
his rat-a-tat-tat had awakened others in the neigh¬ 
borhood as well. Next door, at Sweet Briar, 
Marion and Kitty, who were staying with Alice 
over night, were peeking out at the serenaders 
in amazement, while heads were popping from 
the windows at White Birches to see what all the 
music was about. 

The combs played the melody through once, 
and then were laid aside. Then, accompanied 
by the banjo in Donald’s capable hands, and 
punctuated by resounding clashes on the pot- 
lids from Hugh, all six boys sang the following 
ridiculous parody, giving careful enunciation to 
each word while the audience listened with eager 
ears: 

“We woke to call you early, call you early, Wiggles 
dear, 

To-day will be the gladdest time of all the bright New 
Year; 

Of all the bright New Year, Wiggles, so merry and 
so gay, 

For you will be Queen of the May, Wiggles; you will 
be Queen of the May. 


270 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“You slept so sound all night, Wiggles, we knew you’d 
never wake, 

Unless we called you loudly as the day began to break; 

So up we jumped to waken you before the peep of 
day, 

For you’re to be Queen of the May, Wiggles; you’re 
to be Queen of the May. 

“Jeannette will go out with you as you hasten to the 
green, 

And Marion and Alice, too, will see you crowned the 
Queen; 

The lads and lasses from the school will march with 
May-poles gay, 

And you will be Queen of the May, Woggsie; you 
will be Queen of the May. 

“So jump from out your bed, Woggsie, and rub your 
sleepy eyes. 

Oh, Marion, and Kitty-Cat, and Alice, too, arise, 

And gobble down your breakfast fast, it’s time you 
were away, 

For you’re to be Queen of the May, Woggsie; you’re 
to be Queen of the May. 

“Arise, fair Queen, we beg of you, and don your dainty 
gown, 

Come polish up your scepter bright and freshen up 
your crown; 


MAY-BASKETS 271 

Get out your ermine mantle that’s in moth-balls 
packed away, 

For you’re to be Queen of the May, Wiggles; you’re 
to be Queen of the May. 

“We’ve gathered‘buds for you, Wiggles, the best that 
we could get; 

Alas, the dew was heavy, so our feet got sopping wet, 

So, if we’ve caught our death, Wiggles, and cough 
our lives away, 

It’s ’cause you’re Queen of the May, Wiggles; ’cause 
you’re Queen of the May.” 

A final clash on the dish-pan brought to a 
close the parody which Billy had written, amid 
the laughter of the girls and the hollow coughs 
of the mischievous boys. 

Dr. Eaton leaned perilously far over the sill. 
“As a physician,” he remarked gravely, but with 
a twinkle in his blue eyes, “I recommend bed for 
three hours for you all. The May Queen and 
her Maid of Honor wish me to extend their 
thanks for this delightful and unexpected early- 
morning concert. But, as beauty sleep is needed 
even by royalty, we will bid you a fond—and 
hasty —farewell.” 


272 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Here, Woggsie, toss this out to them,” whis¬ 
pered Mrs. Eaton, handing her a box of home¬ 
made fudge that had been on the table. 

Polly Wiggles’ face dimpled with amusement 
as she popped her head cautiously between the 
curtain-frills. “Here’s some medicine for your 
coughs,” she twinkled. “Catch! But look out 
that it doesn’t give you nightmares,” she warned 
hastily, as six pairs of hands grasped eagerly at 
the coveted prize which Hugh dexterously 
caught by ingeniously holding his dish-pan up to 
receive it. 

“Not to be taken except after meals,” sang out 
Dr. Eaton, popping his head out again. “Now 
skip, you young rascals, and let me finish my 
early-morning nap in peace and quiet.” 

“That prescription holds good for these fair 
damsels, too,” Mrs. Eaton announced firmly, as, 
catching up the sleepy Cubby, whose head was 
nodding like a drowsy poppy, she shooed the 
girls across the room to bed, to finish their morn¬ 
ing snooze. 

“To bed, to bed, you sleepy-head, 

Or else you may expect 


MAY-BASKETS 273 

A pale-eyed fright your mirror bright 
To-morrow will reflect,” 

Aunt Elsie chanted as she scurried back to the 
Rosery. 

“More truth than poetry to that,” Grandpa 
called over his shoulder. “It would never do to 
look like pale, hollow-eyed ghosts for the Frolic, 
that’s sure; so scamper back to bed, chicks, and 
don’t let us hear a peep out of you till seven- 
thirty at least.” 

“Yes, and eight would be better,” yawned Dr. 
Eaton drowsily. “Sweet dreams, youngsters.” 

It was hard to settle down again after the ex¬ 
citing interruption. Jeannette and Polly Wig¬ 
gles kept breaking into stifled giggles at the 
recollection of the funny picture Hugh had 
made, with his heavy auburn hair standing up 
every which-way as he clashed away on the pot- 
lids,'—and Gabriel’s ear-splitting squeaks and 
squeals on the comb. 

“Isn’t it nice that Donald has got so well ac¬ 
quainted with the boys,” whispered Wiggles 
with satisfaction, as she burrowed into her soft 
pillow and tried to compose herself for sleep. 


274 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“I just know I’ll never sleep another wink, for 
I feel wide-awake as an owl. I do wonder what 
our chariot looks like, don’t you? Donald said 
yesterday that they had just finished it, but he 
wouldn’t tell me a thing about it,—mean thing.” 

Jeannette cuddled down comfortably and 
stared at the border of butterflies on the blue 
walls above. A question flashed in her mind at 
sight of the painted blossoms. 

“Do you s’pose any one will hang May- 
baskets for us?” she breathed cautiously, twist¬ 
ing about to glance at the other bed. “Do you 
s pose-? 

What she supposed did not interest Wiggles 
at all, for she had gone fast asleep, and though 
Jeannette had firmly intended remaining awake 
so as to be down bright and early, when she 
opened her eyes again there was a tantalizing 
odor of hot muffins in the air, and Aunt Elsie 
stood in the doorway, laughing at her drowsy 
face. 

“You’d better ‘up with the lark,’ Jet,” she said, 
adding in a louder tone as she ran on down the 
hall, “Polly Wiggles has one sock on already, 



MAY-BASKETS 275 

and the front porch is simply crammed with 
May-baskets.” 

“Hurry up and let Mother fix your hair be¬ 
fore she goes down,” advised Polly Wiggles, ap¬ 
pearing suddenly with every glistening curl in 
place, and trying to fasten her pink-gingham 
frock with fingers that quivered with excitement. 
“I’ll wait for you, and then, before we look at 
our baskets, let’s skip out the back way and leave 
the baskets for the girls over at Sweet Briar. It 
will be lots more fun to wait and see our own 
when we come back.” 

“All right,” agreed Jeannette, disappearing in 
haste. “James promised to leave Miss Helen’s, 
and all the others for those that lived at a dis¬ 
tance, the first thing this morning,” she called 
back, as her sister saved time by pulling back the 
covers of both beds and hanging the two blue 
kimonos in the closet. 

Twenty minutes later the baskets had been 
hung, and, crouched behind the briar-rose 
bushes that formed a thick hedge all about the 
place, they had the satisfaction of watching 
Marion, Alice, and Kitty pounce upon them with 


276 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

cries of delight, while they looked unsuspect¬ 
ingly right over the spot where their laughing 
friends were concealed, as they anxiously 
scanned the road. 

“They never dreamed who left them,” Jean¬ 
nette said with a little skip, as she rose from her 
hiding-place after the girls had given up and 
gone back in the house. “Let’s hustle now; I’m 
dying to see what’s at home for us.” 

The front porch of The Lilacs was filled from 
steps to doorway, and, as the two girls scam¬ 
pered up the pathway, a sudden stir and rustle, 
followed by flying footsteps around the back of 
the house, showed that some one had been there 
in their absence. There were baskets of every 
kind and description, some marked with Jean¬ 
nette’s and some with Elizabeth’s name, while 
Cubby proudly carried in six of her very own. 

“Bring them in the dining-room where we 
may all see them,” called Mrs. Eaton as she 
poured the coffee. “Breakfast is ready, girls. 
What a beautiful display!” she added admir¬ 
ingly, gazing at the arm-loads of blossomy bas¬ 
kets that Grandfather and Aunt Elsie were help- 


MAY-BASKETS 277 

ing arrange on the tea-wagon and serving-table 
that Hannah had hastily cleared. 

“I really don’t believe I want any breakfast,” 
began Polly Wiggles. 

“Breakfast first, and baskets next,” ordered 
her father firmly, giving her curls a playful pull 
as she hovered like some new species of bright- 
hued butterfly over the flowers. “We look like 
a busy florist’s shop. In ten minutes the table 
may be in demand as a resting-place for more 
posies, and if many more baskets come in, we 
shall have to move out to make room for them. 
So come along, youngsters, and eat a good break¬ 
fast while you can.” 

“I’m really not a bit hungry,” protested Jean¬ 
nette, seating herself reluctantly, and languidly 
spooning her grapefruit. 

“Remember that luncheon will not be till after 
one, as the parade only starts at twelve-thirty,” 
warned Mrs. Eaton, buttering a muffin for the 
wee bear. 

“Yes, and the luncheon will be a cold one,” 
added Dr. Eaton, looking up from his bacon and 
eggs. “Now I want you to eat a good hot break- 


278 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

fast like healthy, hungry girls, and not a nibble 
here and there like—like-” 

“ ’Quirrels,” prompted Cubby brightly, 
'twisting about to gaze lovingly at her own pretty 
baskets. “ ’Quirrels like to nibble, Daddy.” 

“So squirrels do,” agreed her father with a 
shake of his head. “And so do Cubby bears, 
and medium-sized bears, and great big bears as 
well.’'’ 

“What a hard-hearted man you are,” mourned 
Polly Wiggles with an affectionate glance. 
“Here you are, cruelly ordering about a Queen, 
when I should by rights be seated on a golden 
throne, eating-” 

“Bread and honey,” piped up Cubby, who 
knew her Mother Goose. 

“Yes, honey, and nightingale tongues and 
delicacies like that,” agreed Polly Wiggles reck¬ 
lessly. “Not bacon and eggs—oh, my, no! 
My appetite is too delicate.” She paused to 
butter a second muffin as she spoke, while Cubby 
listened with rapture to this nonsensical talk. 
“Then if Dr. Eaton, my court physician, ordered 
such coarse, common food,” she resumed scorn- 





MAY-BASKETS 279 

fully, “I would merely say with a wave of my 
golden scepter, ‘Off with his head,’ and my sub¬ 
jects would fly to do my bidding.” 

“I’d probably nrder a tonic for that delicate 
appetite,” returned Dr. Daddy cheerfully, quite 
unmoved by Jeannette’s beseeching glance as 
Hannah served her with cocoa. “Drink your 
cocoa, Jet, and, speaking of flying, I must haste 
away to see some patients, so farewell, my fairy 
fays; I’ll see you later.” 

Breakfast at last came to an end, and the chil¬ 
dren flew to examine the lovely flower-laden 
baskets. 

“Here, let’s divide them,” Polly Wiggles sug¬ 
gested, clearing a space for her own share and 
inspecting the attached cards. “Gracious, Jet, 
you popular young lady; here’s five—seven— 
ten baskets for you, all beauties, and two apiece 
for Grandma and Mother, and three for Aunt 
Elsie.” 

“I never dreamed there would be so many, did 
you? Nevertheless it seems to me you have the 
lion’s share yourself,” Jeannette returned gayly. 
“Twelve baskets, no less, and oh, Wiggles, just 



28 o 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

look at that gorgeous basket of Aunt Elsie’s. 
It’s the loveliest I’ve ever seen.” 

“I wonder who sent it?” demanded the May 
Queen with a roguish smile, as she eyed approv¬ 
ingly the dainty white basket filled with glowing, 
velvety Jack roses. “It’s a perfect beauty. 
Look, Jet, the handle is made out of pussy¬ 
willows. Did you ever see anything so dear?” 

“There’s a card, too,” announced Jeannette, 
pouncing upon it before Aunt Elsie had the 
chance. “Oh, ho, I thought so. It says, ‘Bob,’ 
and, though my manners forbid my looking, I’ll 
bet a cookie that there is a written message on 
the other side.” 

“Look at her blush,” twinkled Polly Wiggles 
mischievously, adding in a confidential aside to 
Jeannette, as Aunt Elsie hastily claimed her bas¬ 
kets and bore them up-stairs to the privacy of 
her own room, “Do you know, I think that Mr. 
Burnett likes Aunt Elsie, ’cause, ever since he 
rescued Cubby, he keeps coming here all the 
time. He says he comes to see Daddy,” she 
finished scornfully, “but almost always Daddy’s 


MAY-BASKETS 281 

out, and I notice he stays and talks to Aunt 
Elsie.” 

“Polly Wiggles, I didn’t think anything could 
be lovelier than my lilac basket, but this one of 
yours is perfectly exquisite,” Grandmother Carr 
said, speaking up from the window-seat, where 
she and Mrs. Eaton had comfortably ensconced 
themselves to act as audience to the “flower- 
show.” She held up, as she spoke, a graceful 
birch-bark basket shaped like a canoe, in 
which were growing delicate maidenhair ferns 
and yellow and lavender wild orchids. 

Mrs. Eaton gave an exclamation of delight 
and stooped to examine it more closely. “This 
looks like the young naturalist’s handiwork,” she 
cried admiringly, as she touched the nodding 
moccasin-flowers with caressing fingers, 

“Yes, I’m sure that’s from Gabriel,” returned 
Polly Wiggles, giving it a swift glance, “ ’cause 
no one else could ever find those flowers. But 
look at Jeannette’s, it’s lovely, too.” 

Jeannette exhibited with pride a round birch- 
bark basket filled with tiny woodland ferns and 


282 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

pearly-white hyacinths whPse fragrance filled 
the dining-room. 

“Sure there are no snakes concealed within 
either one?’’ inquired Grandpa, shrinking away 
in mock alarm. “Or spiders, or angleworms, or 
any other of those dear little creatures that you 
girls so adore?” 

Wiggles dimpled at a sudden recollection as 
she thrust her rosy face amid the fragrant blos¬ 
soms and drew a breath of sweetness from their 
perfumed bells. 

“Gabriel promised cross-his-heart that he 
wouldn’t,” she retorted, jumping up to examine 
a lavender-fluted creation brimming with pink 
and orchid sweet peas. “But, Grandfather, 
wouldn’t it have been dreadful if we had found 
that snake in one of these lovely baskets, as he 
had planned at first?” Her tone was tragic, 
and her grandfather chuckled at the idea. “Just 
imagine Grandmother’s face if it had slithered 


“Ugh, don’t speak of it,” shuddered Jean¬ 
nette, making a wry face at the idea. “It makes 
me feel shivery even to talk about it. Look at 



MAY-BASKETS 283 

this darling basket woven of green reeds and 
filled with daffodils, instead. Isn’t it a picture?” 

Her grandfather privately thought that the 
two graceful girls in their dainty morning- 
dresses were the prettiest part of the picture, but 
he duly admired the daffodils, while Wiggles 
hopped up and down on one foot, and shook with 
some sudden amusement. 

“Oh, Jet, I’m certain-sure that’s the one Hugh 
made for you, and you alone,” she teased, in¬ 
specting the pretty basket critically. Then she 
clasped her hands and posed dramatically. “He 
did it with his lily-white hands, all for you,” she 
declaimed; breaking off hurriedly as Jeannette, 
with a very red face, chased her around the table. 
“Help, help, the Queen is being assassinated. 
Ouch, let go of my hair.” 

“Then don’t be a silly,” retorted Jeannette, 
firmly clutching the thick black curls that held 
her agile sister an unwilling captive, while Mrs. 
Eaton and Grandmother shook with laughter. 
“Mother says it’s silly to act sentimental about 
boys-” 

“And so it is,” acknowledged Polly Wiggles, 



284 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

frankly catching her sister in an unguarded mo¬ 
ment and whisking under her arm and out of 
reach. “But I don’t mean it in that silly way.” 

“Just the same, it is silly,” insisted Jeannette 
loftily, “ ’cause you know as well as I do, Eliza¬ 
beth Eaton, that we’re all good friends and he 
likes us all.” 

But Polly Wiggles was in a teasing mood. 
“Of course he likes us all,” she persisted, “and 
I don’t mean a silly sentimental like— But 
everybody knows that Hugh thinks you’re the 
nicest girl he knows. Why, even Marion said 
herself that you were the only one he was going 
to make a May-basket for. However, if you 
prefer to think it was from some unknown ad¬ 
mirer—” She paused abruptly at sound of the 
front-door bell, and darted out into the hall, fol¬ 
lowed by Jeannette, where they nearly collided 
with fat Mandy, whose face was all agrin as she 
waddled toward the dining-room with more 
flower-baskets. 

“The most scrumptious baskets of all is these 
Ah’m totin’ in,” she breathed gustily, as she 
placed them carefully on the table and stood with 


I 


MAY-BASKETS 285 

arms akimbo to admire the offerings to her 
“babies.” “And pell-mell down the road like a 
skyclome went dat yeller-haired Harrison boy, 
pert as a cricket, while dat handsome-looking 
Prince Donald, who is Miss Marie’s own boy, 
was a-dodgin’ and slippin’ round back of the 
trees over yonder, but I seen him jest the same.” 

Nothing could induce Mandy to call Donald 
anything but Prifice Donald or Prince Charm¬ 
ing after having heard the children’s chatter 
/ 

about the Enchanted Palace. “ ’Cause he holds 
hisself like a Prince and walks proud like one,” 
she had insisted when Mrs. Eaton questioned 
her about it. “He’s the one dat ought to be May 
King, even if he don’t go to dat school, though, 
I must say, dat Allan Harrison is a fine looker, 
too. But any one with two eyes can see dat Miss 
Marie’s boy is quality through and through, and 
has hobnobbed with the best in the land, yas, 
ma’am.” 

“These certainly are the handsomest baskets 
of all,” admitted Grandpa Carr, as every one 
came hurrying to see them. 

There were two baskets for Elizabeth and one 


286 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

for Jeannette, and it was hard to choose the 
prettiest. Jeannette’s basket was of pale-blue 
wicker, overflowing with pink sweet peas and 
blue forget-me-nots, while huge bows of shim¬ 
mering blue-satin ribbon fluttered from the 
handle, which was twined with pink buds. 

Elizabeth’s basket was of wicker, too, but it 
was the most delicate shade of pink, and shaped 
like a big heart. Inside were hundreds of tiny 
pink Sweetheart roses and sprays of valley lilies 
that showered their perfumed sweetness through 
all the room. A twisted garland of moss rose¬ 
buds and smilax outlined the basket and formed 
the handle, while, tied to the top with long 
streamers of airy pink gauze, was a little verse 
which Polly Wiggles read aloud: 

“A poet might try to write verses most fair, 

In praise of your dimples, your eyes, and your hair, 
But on this glad day, 

Allegiance I pay, 

And render you homage, fair Queen of the May.” 

“Now who has an unknown admirer, I’d like 
to know?” jeered Jeannette, doubling up with 


MAY-BASKETS 287 

mirth at her sister’s blushing confusion. “No 
one has written poetry about my dimples and 
hair, and—and—I’m ‘going into the garden and 
eat worms,’ ” she finished laughingly. “Now, do 
let’s see this basket that’s shrouded in tissue 
paper. It looks interesting.” 

“Oh it is lovely,” squealed Wiggles, holding 
up a melon-shaped basket made entirely out of 
purple double violets and lined with lemon- 
yellow tea-roses. “Dear me, I don’t know 
which is prettier. Just look at these yellow and 
violet gauze butterflies on the handle, Mother; 
their wings quiver like honest-truly butterflies.” 

“And, bless my soul, if there isn’t another 
rhyme,” Grandma Carr added, pointing to a 
twist of paper thrust in the midst of the dewy 
violets. “Your friends seem to be poetically in¬ 
clined. Read it out, my dear.” 

“Yes, do read it out,” implored Billy and 
Dick, appearing suddenly from the kitchen with 
their hands filled with cookies from Mandy’s 
cookie-jar. “ ’Scuse us, Aunt Jean and 
Grandma, for helping ourselves, but we made 
ourselves at home ’cause we were hungry, and 


288 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

we knew you wouldn’t want us to starve on your 
doorsteps.” 

Mrs. Eaton laughed at their nonsense, while 
Polly Wiggles hastily pocketed the first note and 
tried to keep the other from Billy’s grasp. 

“No fair, no fair, go ’long with you,” she 
cried, as Dick joined the attacking party. “It’s 
the Queen’s privilege to read her notes in 
private.” 

“You won’t be Queen till this afternoon,” ob¬ 
jected Dick as an excuse. “Ah, be a sport.” 

“Yes, be a sport,” mimicked Billy teasingly, as 
he captured the paper and waved it tantalizingly 
above her head. “As your older male relative 
I consider this my solemn duty. It hurts me 
more than it does you, but you know, 

“My own convenience counts as nil; 

It is my duty, and I will,’ ” 

he quoted from the Bab Ballads in self-defense. 
“Now, let me see.” He glanced at the note in 
his hand with a ferocious frown. “Ah, ha, I 
thought so; some miserable unworthy knave is 
writing to our noble Queen in verse, without the 
Lord Chancellor’s permission. Call forth the 
guard!” 


MAY-BASKETS 289 

“Oh, Billy, let me see it,” coaxed Polly Wig¬ 
gles imploringly. “I don’t believe it says a 
single thing.” 

“You don’t? Well, keep your hands off and 
I’ll read it out loud. Just listen to this tender 
effusion: 

“My every thought a butterfly, 

That, wafted by my eager sigh, 

Would spread its wings of palest hue, 

And far away would fly—to you.” 

“What do you think of that, Aunt Jean? No 
one sends me things like that,” put in Dick plain¬ 
tively. “Who sent it?” 

“How should I know?” retorted Polly Wig¬ 
gles coolly, much amused because she knew that 
both boys were racking their brains to try and 
think who it might be. 

“I think it’s lovely,” said Jeannette loyally. 
“It’s lots better than most valentines.” 

“But I refuse to allow my youthful cousin to 
receive such missives,” returned Billy with a 
grandfatherly air, as he pocketed the note for his 
own private purposes, hoping he would be able 
to find out whose handwriting it was. “Now, 


290 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

what I really came to say was, that it is eleven 
o’clock, and Marion called out to say that she and 
Alice and Kitty would be over in fifteen minutes, 
as they were going to dress here. So unless our 
fair Queen wants to be left behind, methinks 
she’d better skedaddle and don her glad rags. 
Don said the chariot would be at the gate for 
you at twelve, and three-quarters of an hour will 
be far too short a time for you girls to primp.” 

Polly Wiggles swept a low curtsy. “The 
Queen will bid you all good day, she goes to don 
her fine array; in coronation robes of state, she’ll 
meet you later at the gate. But she would warn 
that you, as well, had better hustle home pell- 
mell, and don your suits of Lincoln green, or 
else I fear you’ll not be seen, as Courtiers your 
Queen to aid, a-marching in the big parade,” 
she chanted extemporaneously as she mounted 
the stair-case. 

It was not until she reached the top, and the 
ringing of the doorbell announced the arrival 
of the Maids of Honor, that Billy discovered 
that the note which he had tucked in his pocket 
—was gone. 


CHAPTER TWENTY 

THE MAY FROLIC 


T HE grandfather clock was striking 
twelve as Donald ran lightly up the 
front steps of The Lilacs, and hurried 
on into the hall. He paused at the foot of the 
winding staircase to gaze appreciatively at the 
pretty scene above. 

“An artist ought to paint that and call it 
‘Spring,’ ” he thought to himself as he admired 
the bevy of laughing girls who were clustered in 
an animated group on the landing above, en¬ 
tirely unaware of his presence. He drew far¬ 
ther back into a shadowy corner as Jet jumped 
up from the window-seat where she had been 
comfortably ensconced as she listened to the 
laughing chatter and good-natured banter that 
was going on, and straightened the cherry- 
blossom wreath on her long dark curls. 

Through the casement-windows a straying 

291 


292 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

sunbeam peeped in, making a glory of Marion’s 
ruddy locks and bringing out glints of gold in 
Alice’s fair hair until it looked like a nimbus 
about her head. 

“Is my wreath on straight?” inquired Marion 
anxiously, shaking out her gauzy green ruffles 
as Alice leaned over to arrange the wreath of 
apple-blossoms she was wearing. 

Jeannette eyed her admiringly. “Yes, trust 
Alice for arranging it artistically, and in those 
pale-green net dresses over the green slips, and 
with those snowy blossoms in your hair, you and 
Alice look exactly like wood nymphs.” 

“Are you intimately acquainted with many 
wood nymphs?” quizzed Kitty mischievously, 
as she bent her own head, with its short brown 
curls, so that Jet could settle the pink cherry- 
blossom wreath to her liking. 

Marion with a hand on the banisters, paused to 
glance back over her shoulder. “I love your 
green dresses over the pink, with the cherry- 
blossom crowns,” she exclaimed enthusiastically. 
“It was such a pretty idea having two of us in 
green and white, and two in green and pink, and 


THE MAY FROLIC 293 

I’m so glad they decided this way, ’cause pink 
would have sworn at my hair.” 

“If we look like wood nymphs,” Alice added 
approvingly,” you and Kitty-Cat certainly look 
like dryads, and Elizabeth looks like a rose that 
had come to life.” 

“Who’s talking about me? My ears burn,” 
Polly Wiggles cried gayly, and Donald caught 
his breath at the dainty vision that floated down 
the polished stairs as lightly as a rose-petal borne 
along by the breezes. 

Never had Elizabeth looked sweeter than in 
the dainty pink-net frock, with its fluttering 
pink ribbons, and slippers and socks to match. 
Donald thought that Alice’s description had 
been a good one, for she did look like a very 
rosebud of a girl, in her gauzy gown with its 
petal-shaped rosy ruffles. A high-pointed cor¬ 
onet of pink rosebuds crowned the dusky mass 
of curls that framed the soft oval of her face. 
Half-way down the stairs she paused shyly, 
while the rose color deepened in her cheeks, as 
she spied Donald for the first time, and saw the 
admiration in his dark eyes. 


294 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Laws sake, if mah baby don’t look sweet 
enough to eat,” chuckled Mandy, popping her 
bandanna-covered head out from the pantry, 
with Hannah peeping from behind. “You-all 
looks powahful handsome in those get-ups, jest 
like a bunch o’ posies. Heah’s Prince Donald 
a-waiting to see you, honey.” 

Donald looked puzzled as he saw the startled 
glances the girls exchanged at Mandy’s remark, 
and he wondered anew why she always ad¬ 
dressed him as “Prince.” It was not the first 
time. He had noticed it before on several oc¬ 
casions, and once even Alice had inadvertently 
blurted out “Prince Cha—” when speaking to 
him, and then quickly corrected her mistake. 

“It’s a lowly prince who humbly kneels before 
the Queen of May,” he protested half laughing, 
as he sank to one knee. “Prithee tell me, fair 
Queen, why does yon dusky damsel dub me 
‘Prince’? It makes me feel exactly like a collie 
pup,” he explained ruefully, with a quick glance 
upward. 

Much to his astonishment, Polly Wiggles was 
plainly confused, but she recovered her com- 


THE MAY FROLIC 295 

posure almost immediately and shot a warning 
glance at Alice, who turned a giggle into a 
cough. 

“Oh, oh,—I s’pose Mandy thinks you have 
hobnobbed with all kinds of royalty because 
you’ve lived abroad so much,” she stammered 
with heightened color, giving him a swift glance. 
“How nice he looks!” thought Polly Wiggles, 
as she noticed with approval the immaculate 
white-linen suit he was wearing. “It’s silly of 
me to blush like a goose over Mandy’s remark, 
but I can’t tell him that we called him Prince 
Charming. It would sound too silly,—and yet 
some day some one of us is going to call him 
that to his face and feel like going through the 
floor.” 

A sudden idea flashed into her mind. “Don’t 
you think Donald should be rewarded, or 
knighted or something, for offering us the 
chariot?” she asked meaningly, turning to the 
others. They seized the idea with enthusiasm. 

“Dub him ‘Sir,’ or ‘Lord,’ or—or ‘Prince,’ ” 
suggested Jeannette daringly, suppressing a 
smile at her sister’s ready wit. 



296 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“I dub you Prince Donald,” Polly Wiggles 
announced solemnly, as she tapped him lightly 
on the shoulder with the rose-garlanded silver 
scepter she carried. “Now if we do call him 
‘Prince’ by mistake, it won’t sound so funny,” 
she reflected with secret satisfaction. 

Donald entered into the spirit of make-believe 
with due solemnity. 

“I thank you for the honor, O Queen,” he re¬ 
sponded, producing a package from his pocket 
which the girls eyed curiously. “Many leagues 
have I traversed, and many dangers have I over¬ 
come, to bring to you this casket containing 
baubles which I offer at your feet. Though 
they are unworthy of a Queen’s attention, still, 
if they might deck the royal party on this great 
gala day, it would bring joy and gladness to the 
one who sends them, my mother, the Fairy God¬ 
mother who dwells at the Enchanted Castle of 
White Birches.” 

It was coincidence, of course, that his laugh¬ 
ing reply should border so closely on their own 
fancy of the Enchanted Palace and the Fairy 


THE MAY FROLIC 297 

Godmother, but to the girls it was little short of 
miraculous. 

“How did he know? I’m beginning to think 
he honestly is a fairy Prince,” Marion breathed 
in Jeannette’s ear. 

“Oh, Queen of May, I offer you this treasure- 
casket and trust it may please your Royal High¬ 
ness,” continued Donald, banging his head three 
times on the lower step, and rising to his feet 
as he handed her a pink-satin box. 

“What does he mean? What’s in the box?” 
demanded Kitty, laughing at his foolishness. 
“Oh, look at the cunning white-kid cases in¬ 
side!” 

With eager fingers the girls explored the 
dainty cases marked with their names. 

“A string of pearls for each one of us to wear! 
Isn’t that lovely!” breathed Jeannette raptur¬ 
ously, as she lifted the gleaming string from the 
pink jeweler’s cotton. Then clasping it about 
her throat, she ran to the hall-mirror to admire 
the effect. 

Polly Wiggles gave a little cry of pleasure. 


298 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“My pearls are just the color of my dress,” she 
exclaimed happily, holding up a necklace of 
tiny pink pearls for them all to admire. “I just 
love them, Donald, and it was dear of your 
mother to give us such a delightful surprise. 
She certainly is a real Fairy Godmother.” 

“What did I tell you?” crowed Alice under 
her breath, as she bent to fasten the strap of her 
white slipper. Again the glance flashed about, 
and Donald, who had heard the whisper, felt 
more puzzled than ever. 

“There’s some kind of a joke,” he reflected 
sagely, “and I’ll need to turn detective to find 
out what it is, for they’ll never tell me.” 

“Girls, do come and see the chariot,” called 
Aunt Elsie enthusiastically from the veranda. 
“It’s a perfect beauty.” 

There was a laughing scramble as the five ex¬ 
cited girls, with all royal dignity forgotten, 
rushed pell-mell for the front door. As he 
sauntered along behind, a confused babel of de¬ 
lighted comment floated back to Donald’s ears. 

“Oh, oh, did you ever-?” 

“Like a real Cinderella coach.” 



299 


THE MAY FROLIC 

“All made of pink roses.” 

“The loveliest thing I ever saw.” 

Polly Wiggles’ smile alone well repaid Don¬ 
ald for all the time and labor he had spent in dec¬ 
orating the basket-carriage that had once been a 
mere pony cart, but which his clever fingers had 
transformed into a flower-chariot fit for Titania 
herself. 

Hundreds of pink tissue-paper roses had been 
used to conceal the original carriage, which was 
now a bower of rosy bloom. Great garlands of 
rose-pink buds twined the wheels and festooned 
the white reins and harness, while pink plumes 
nodded behind the ears of Snow Queen and 
White Beauty, as they tossed their snowy manes 
and impatiently pawed the ground. 

“You look like a fairy Princess,” he mur¬ 
mured admiringly, as he helped Polly Wiggles 
into the huge pink rose that formed her seat high 
above the others, while the Maids of Honor 
grouped themselves about her. 

“I feel more like a Rose Princess,” she dim¬ 
pled in amusement, as she gazed with delight at 
the canopy of rose-petals that shielded her from 


300 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

the sun. “Where did you ever get all these 
roses? There must be thousands.” 

“We made them,” Donald explained, as he 
seated himself at her feet and gathered up the 
reins. 

“Oh, are you coming with us?” inquired 
Marion in surprise. 

Donald shot her an amused glance. “Who 
did you suppose was going to drive? You girls 
couldn’t, all dressed up in those mermaidy- 
looking dresses, so Miss Helen appointed me 
official coachman,” he returned with satisfac¬ 
tion. “Are you all comfortably settled now? 
If you are, we’d better trot along unless we want 
to be late. Every one is assembling at the Post 
Office, and it’s well past twelve now.” 

Cubby, standing on the front porch, strained 
her eyes until the flower-coach was a mere speck 
in the distance. Then she trotted happily in the 
house to ask endless questions of every one she 
met. She kept up a running chatter of excited 
comment all the while she was being dressed in 
her daintiest frock, and danced down at the 



He helped Polly Wiggles into the large pink rose 

THAT FORMED HER SEAT .—Page 299 . 



































THE MAY FROLIC 301 

sound of her grandfather’s voice, with a beam¬ 
ing face and starry eyes. 

“Well, well, if little Miss Snippets isn’t all 
dressed up in her bestest frock, too,” teased 
Grandfather, as she trotted at his heels. 

“You ought to see the crowd that has col¬ 
lected,” he continued, turning to the others. 
“When I came from the village a few minutes 
ago, the streets were lined with carriages and 
automobiles, and it looks as if every one and his 
daddy is out. I do believe that all Meadow- 
brook and the surrounding towns have gathered 
for the fun, and I noticed several photographers. 
I never dreamed that a children’s parade would 
be such a source of interest.” 

Aunt Elsie hurried down the stairs, hastily 
tucking in a few stray hairpins. “Let’s go out 
on the lawn,” she suggested, leading the way to 
the rustic seats that James had placed for them 
on the grass. They were joined by Mrs. Mac- 
Allister, who settled down cozily beside Mrs. 
Eaton. 

“Helen told me,” she explained to the others. 


302 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“that all the surrounding towns had been invited, 
and, from the appearance of the avenue, it looks 
as if all invitations had been accepted. Many 
families are making a picnic of it, and will bring 
lunch and spend the day in the meadows, where 
seats have been arranged so that they can see the 
coronation afterward. It really has been 
planned very well. There is parking space for 
vehicles, and, in addition to the games and races 
by the children, the Meadowbrook team will 
have a ball-game in the afternoon. It’s really a 
gala day, and every one is interested in making 
it a success.” 

“Yes,” replied Aunt Elsie, picking up Boots, 
who had followed her out, “there is considerable 
talk of having the parade every year and calling 
it ‘The Children’s Day,’ if this is a success. I 
think it would be a lovely scheme.” 

“So do I,” responded Mrs. MacAllister vi¬ 
vaciously; “and I think it was a splendid plan, 
asking the cottagers to decorate. Won’t that 
long line of lanterns down the avenue look 
lovely when they’re lighted for the return parade 
at dusk? Sam is putting ours up now, and your 


THE MAY FROLIC 303 

place looks very festive.” She glanced about as 
she spoke, at the long strings of bobbing lan¬ 
terns that J ames had festooned from tree to tree 
all about the grounds. 

“Listen! What’s that?” cried Mrs. Eaton, 
holding up a warning finger. Far down the 
road they could hear a faint strain of music and 
the tramp of marching feet. Cubby squirmed 
with impatience and clambered up on her grand¬ 
father’s knee, holding her breath with eagerness 
as the sound came nearer and nearer. 

“It’s the Meadowbrook Fife and Drum Corps 
that they invited to lead the parade,” volunteered 
Grandma Carr. “Hark, there’s a bugle. That 
must be Gabriel, riding before as Herald. 
Look, look, Cubby; here they come.” 

Cubby folded her chubby hands and stared 
with eyes like full moons. 

Gabriel dashed ahead on a fat brown pony, 
blowing a bugle and announcing importantly 
with every toot, “Make way for the Queen of 
May, make way for the Queen of May,” though 
no one made any effort to block the road. 

Four abreast, the Meadowbrook Fife and 


304 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Drum Corps marched next, with the sun flash¬ 
ing on their bugles and on the rows of gilt braid 
that trimmed the leaf-green uniforms they wore. 
They played so valiantly that it was hard to keep 
from marching in time to the stirring strains, 
and Cubby’s foot went tap-tapping against her 
chair while ecstatic shivers ran down her spine. 

At Miss Helen’s suggestion the sewing-classes 
at the school had made Lincoln-green costumes 
for the King and his attendants. It gave a pic¬ 
turesque effect to the parade, and as Dick, Billy, 
and Hugh went marching past, with heads in 
the air and faces all agrin, as they kept step to 
the rat-a-tat-tat of the drummer, they made a fine 
showing. As body-guard to the King and 
Queen, they carried the bows and arrows that 
were to be used in the archery contest later, and 
it looked as if Robin Hood and his merry men 
from Sherwood Forest had descended on Mead- 
owbrook for the day. 

King Allan, blond as a young Viking, rode 
a prancing black horse that curveted and danced 
each time the music started. 

There was a flutter of handkerchiefs all along 


THE MAY FROLIC 305 

the avenue as he came in sight, followed by 
cheers from the friendly crowd as the Queen’s 
coach, with its snow-white ponies, appeared. 

“Isn’t she a picture?” whispered Mrs. Mac- 
Allister, waving frantically, as the May Queen, 
seated in the heart of the big pink rose, rode by, 
nodding and smiling shyly to the interested by¬ 
standers. 

“And don’t the Maids of Honor look sweet 
and springy in those cool green dresses?” de¬ 
manded Grandmother Carr, as she smiled and 
waved at the little girls whose faces beamed with 
delight, and who fluttered their handkerchiefs 
in return, regardless of royal etiquette, till the 
coach was out of sight. 

“Don was pleased as Punch to drive them. It 
would have been rather hard to have been out of 
all the fun,” Mrs. MacAllister continued re¬ 
flectively. “Look at these lovely Maypoles. 
There must be a dozen at least.” 

There were pink Maypoles and blue May- 
poles, and yellow, green, and lavender May- 
poles, as well as a red-white-and-blue, and a 
rainbow-shaded one, so that Cubby found it dif- 


306 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ficult to decide which was the prettiest. In their 
light-colored summer dresses the schoolgirls 
looked like a flock of brilliant-colored butter¬ 
flies as they fluttered about the poles, holding 
fast to the long satin streamers. Behind them 
marched the boys, carrying gay-colored bal¬ 
loons that floated through the air like enormous 
soap-bubbles. 

“There goes the most important part of the 
parade,” chuckled Grandpa Carr, as a big 
wagon, driven by a laughing crowd of school¬ 
teachers, brought up the rear, loaded to the brim 
with baskets of lunch. 

“Speaking of lunch,” began Mrs. MacAllis- 
ter quickly, as she rose from her seat, “our lunch¬ 
eon no doubt awaits us now, and if we want to 
be present at the Queen’s coronation—” She 
paused suggestively and smiled at the wee 
bear, who slid from her grandfather’s knee in a 
hurry, anxious for the “party” to begin. Only 
pausing long enough to send Boots back to the 
house, the little party strolled across the road to 
White Birches. 

It was a glorious day for Cubby. To be an 


THE MAY FROLIC 307 

invited guest at a real luncheon party would 
have been wonderful in itself, but Mrs. MacAl- 
lister had planned the entire luncheon with a 
thought to her small guest’s enjoyment. So the 
first thing that greeted their eyes, as they entered 
the paneled dining-room, was a wreath of pink 
roses suspended above the table. From the 
wreath fluttered long pink Maypole ribbons 
that were fastened at each place to pink basket- 
favors filled with candied rose-leaves. 

Donald, who had hurried home after leaving 
the May party at their destination, seated Cubby 
with as much ceremony as if she had been forty 
instead of “going on four,” and entertained her 
with such a grown-up conversation that her 
heart was filled with delight, and she even felt 
sorry for Jet and Wiggles, who were missing 
this good time. 

Anxious to correct the impression she had 
made by her naughtiness before, she copied her 
grandmother’s dignified manner to perfection, 
but not hin g escaped the notice of her dancing 
brown eyes. Mrs. MacAllister had to repress 
a smile as she cleared her throat in unconscious 


308 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

imitation of her mother, and ate her roll with 
Aunt Elsie’s very gestures. 

“What an unconscious little actress that child 
is!” she thought, catching Mrs. Eaton’s amused 
glance, as she eyed the small mimic, who was on 
her best behavior and acting like a baby seraph. 

Everything that the wee bear liked best ap¬ 
peared at that lovely May Day luncheon, and 
when ice-cream forms frozen into big pink roses 
were served, her dark eyes sparkled with delight. 
Her cup of joy was filled when Mrs. MacAllis- 
ter opened a little white case, and clasped about 
her neck a short string of small pink pearls, al¬ 
most exactly like those that Elizabeth had re¬ 
ceived. 

“It is lovely of you, Marie, to give the chil¬ 
dren so much pleasure,” Mrs. Eaton said, as 
Cubby lifted her face to Mrs. MacAllister for a 
kiss. 

“If you knew what a pleasure it was to me,” 
responded Mrs. MacAllister, rising from the 
table and leading the way into the hall. “You 
know I’ve threatened before to steal your girls.” 

Sam, Mrs. MacAllister’s chauffeur, had the 


THE MAY FROLIC 309 

automobile ready and waiting at the door to take 
them all to the coronation, but Cubby, proudly 
fingering her pearls with one hand, stopped 
short on the steps to dance up and down and clap 
her hands with joy, for, coming up the driveway, 
was the Queen’s rose chariot, with Donald 
driving. 

“I promised I’d take you riding with the 
ponies, and I’m keeping my promise,” he re¬ 
minded her with a merry glance, as she danced 
down the steps and clambered up into the 
Queen’s rose seat. “Now hold tight so you don’t 
tumble out, and we’ll get there in a jiffy.” 

“Look at that child’s rapt face,” exclaimed 
Mrs. MacAllister from the car, as the ponies 
trotted down the broad avenue, with Cubby 
waving ecstatic farewells. 

Over at the picnic-grounds time had slipped 
by rapidly. After the basket-luncheons had 
been eaten, King Allan and Queen Elizabeth 
were escorted with pomp and ceremony to their 
flowery thrones and the real merrymaking 
began. 

Donald and Evelyn, followed by the automo- 


310 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

bile, arrived just in time, for the coronation was 
about to begin. They were fortunate in finding 
parking space near the scene of the ceremonies, 
where they could watch all that passed. 

It was a pretty sight. Billy, as master of cer¬ 
emonies, knelt respectfully before the King and 
Queen, and then, advancing down the aisle 
formed by the Courtiers and Maids of Honor, 
he fastened a silver star to the Queen’s coronet, 
and placed a crown on the King’s blond hair. 

Over the children’s heads dogwood branches 
formed an arching canopy of starry white blos¬ 
soms, while every breeze carried from near-by 
orchards the delicious perfume of crab-apple 
and plum blossoms that filled the air with 
fragrance. 

Then, in rapid succession there were potato 
and sack races, high-jumping contests, and 
archery and target-shooting, while the school 
classes competed in drills and folk-dancing on 
the green turf. The enthusiastic audience, that 
crowded the meadows and golf links beyond, 
applauded vigorously each time a winner ad- 


THE MAY FROLIC 311 

vanced to the throne to receive a prize from the 
May Queen’s hands. 

Cubby sat as upright as her swaying seat 
would allow, beaming on the world impartially 
and hoping every one would know that the May 
Queen was her big sister. Her eyes danced 
with delight when Alice received a bow and 
a quiver of arrows as the prize-winner in the 
archery contest, and when Billy advanced to 
receive a camera for the best high jump. Her 
happiest moment came when Donald, whom 
she greatly admired, and who had been invited 
by Miss Helen to try his hand at target-shooting, 
knelt at the Queen’s feet to receive for his clever 
marksmanship the tiny gold pin, shaped like a 
rifle, that Polly Wiggles fastened to his coat. 

“Say, aren’t the prizes fine? The teachers 
gave them all,” puffed Dick, appearing sud¬ 
denly, hot and dirty, at the automobile door with 
a huge watermelon in his arms. 

“Where did you get that?” demanded Mrs. 
MacAllister much amused. Dick fished first in 
one pocket and then in the other, finally produc- 


312 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

ing a much-soiled handkerchief with which he 
wiped his flushed face, adding to its smudgy 
appearance. 

“I won it in a pie-eating contest,” he an¬ 
nounced proudly, placing the watermelon care¬ 
fully on the running-board of the car and seat¬ 
ing himself beside it. “Say, but isn’t it hot? 
I ate nine small pies, and Gabriel ate seven. I 
won the melon, and he got a box of candy, but 
somehow we don’t seem to feel very hungry.” 

“I should think not,” gasped Grandmother 
Carr in horror. “What will you do next? 
You’ll probably die with indigestion to-night. 
I must confess that I agree with Polly Wiggles 
when she says, ‘Aren’t boys the queerest?’ ” 

“Don’t you worry about Dick,” put in Mrs. 
MacAllister comfortably, while Dick’s admira¬ 
tion for her mounted sky-high. “Most boys 
have digestions like ostriches, and the pies prob¬ 
ably won’t hurt him at all. I remember once 
when Donald was much younger,” she contin¬ 
ued with a reminiscent smile, “that he ate four 
large mince pies, and he’s still here to tell the 
tale.” 


THE MAY FROLIC 313 

“Marion and Jeannette each won a set of 
books in the potato races,” Dick continued 
hastily, thinking it wise to change the subject, 
“and Hugh got a bully knife in the sack race.” 

“How about Kitty?” inquired Aunt Elsie 
presently. “Seems to me that the royal party 
have walked off with a good many prizes.” 

Dick snickered. “See that sour-looking girl 
over there that looks as if she had swallowed a 
quart of vinegar?” he murmured confidentially, 
pointing to a sullen group just a short distance 
away. “Well, that’s Jane Juggins, with her few 
particular cronies, and ever since Kitty beat her 
in the obstacle race and won a silver pencil, she’s 
been sore as a boil. Kit’s as light as a feather, 
you know, and simply sailed along like thistle¬ 
down, and Jane has worn a particularly black 
scowl ever since. She’s disgruntled, anyway, 
’cause she isn’t in the royal party.” 

Aunt Elsie leaned forward to look, and 
couldn’t help laughing at Dick’s apt description. 
“There’s a discontented subject, if ever I saw 
one,” she remarked lightly. “She certainly 
does not love our Polly Wiggles, and if black 


314 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

looks were dangerous, the May Queen would 
need a heavy guard.” 

“She makes me sick,” growled Dick. “I only 
wish that Wiggles and Allan could have com¬ 
peted in some of the games, but, of course, roy¬ 
alty had to act dignified. Look, Aunt Jean, 
the Maypole dances come next, and they are 
mighty pretty. May I leave the watermelon 
here while I go over to watch the baseball 
game?” 

“Suppose we take it home for you,” suggested 
Mrs. MacAllister, making room for it at her feet. 

The day passed like a happy dream for Polly 
Wiggles. Surrounded by her closest friends, 
not even Jane Juggins’ cutting speeches could 
bother her, though the boys openly laughed each 
time Jane flounced by with her nose in the air. 

“You’re beneath her notice,” murmured 
Allan in a teasing undertone, as Jane spoke 
sweetly to him, and looked right through the 
May Queen as if she did not exist. “Don’t you 
feel terribly cut up about it?” 

“Dreadfully,” sighed Polly Wiggles with a 


THE MAY FROLIC 315 

saucy glance at him. “My day is quite, quite 
ruined.” 

“I heard her tell one of her friends that you 
lacked a queenly air,” confided Gabriel, appear¬ 
ing from the ball field and passing his candy 
about. “I hope you realize the seriousness of 
that offense. You should take lessons in nose- 
tilting from the scornful Jane and act as if we 
were the dirt beneath your feet.” 

“None but the noble Jane possesses the lofty 
dignity, the icy stare, the haughty carriage, com¬ 
bined with the ‘I know not what,’ that any queen 
who is a queen should possess. Now Wiggles 
couldn’t manage an icy stare if her throne de¬ 
pended on it. I always wondered what it was 
that she lacked, and now, alas, I know,” put in 
Billy mournfully as he helped himself to more 
candy. 

“Oh, but the noble Jane can give coy melting 
glances, too,” grinned Gabriel, shooting a quick 
glance at Allan, who scowled in response. 

Little by little the crowd dispersed. At seven 
o’clock the line of march was resumed, and the 


316 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

parade started its return journey through a lane 
of glowing lanterns and colored fire. Every 
cottage along the way had decorated, in honor 
of the day, with bunting, and swaying lanterns 
that gleamed through the gathering dusk like 
enormous scintillating fireflies. 

White Birches had been turned into a fairy¬ 
land of colored lights, and the children halted 
a few minutes while Sam, assisted by James, set 
off glowing pinwheels and sparkling flower¬ 
pots, with Cubby waving sparklers to and fro 
with a happy though sleepy smile. 

In front of the post-office the parade dis¬ 
banded, and most of the children hurried home 
for hasty suppers. Down in the grove a band 
concert, that would last till nine-thirty, had al¬ 
ready begun. 

Donald backed the cart up to the sidewalk, 
and jumped down, almost colliding with the 
“noble Jane,” as Billy insisted on calling her, 
who was hovering near. As he rounded up the 
royal party, she watched him from the corner of 
her eye, secretly angry because this good- 
looking new boy, with the beautiful ponies, 


THE MAY FROLIC 317 

should already be on such friendly terms with 
the group of girls she disliked. 

“All the May-Day royalties pile in,” com¬ 
manded Donald, hurrying back with Gabriel 
and Allan in tow. “We’ll have to squeeze a bit 
to seat eleven, but I’m sure we can manage. No 
one needs to go home to ask, for Mother has al¬ 
ready received permission for you all to come to 
White Birches for a little supper party.” 

“What fun,” murmured Polly Wiggles, 
serenely unconscious of Jane’s angry glances 
from behind, as the ponies trotted off with the 
load of laughing young people. “It’s the 
lovely end to a lovely day, isn’t it, Jet?” 

“Indeed it is,” Jeannette said smilingly in re¬ 
turn, glancing with happy dark eyes at her sis¬ 
ter. “Why, Donald, where are you taking us?” 

No wonder she inquired, for the ponies swept 
past the big porch, where Mrs. MacAllister was 
entertaining her friends from The Lilacs and 
Sweet Briar, and trotted on down the winding 
path toward Willow Lake. 

“Look, look,” cried Alice, catching Marion’s 
arm and pointing toward the rustic summer- 


318 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

house at the edge of the lake. “Oh, how pretty!” 

“It looks like fairyland,” added Kitty, lean¬ 
ing forward to gaze at the bobbing lanterns that 
swung across the little rustic bridge and cast 
fantastic shadows on the round table that had 
been laid for eleven in the pavilion. “I never 
saw anything so lovely.” 

“It looks like a Fairy Godmother’s idea,” 
breathed Alice, as Billy assisted her from the 
rose coach. “Probably all she did was to wave 
a wand and the table sprang up through the 
floor, all covered with silver and china in read¬ 
iness for us.” 

“And at the stroke of twelve ’twill vanish like 
a puff of smoke,” declared Allan dramatically, 
snapping his fingers to illustrate. 

“Yum-yum, I smell chicken, and I’m hungry. 
I hope the clock won’t strike twelve yet awhile,” 
said matter-of-fact Marion, interrupting the 
chorus of delighted exclamations. 

“The idea of speaking of such a prosaic thing 
as hunger, when you can feast your eyes on an 
enchanting scene like that,” rebuked Billy from 
the rear. “However, since you have mentioned 


THE MAY FROLIC 319 

the subject, let me say that I could stand a little 
solid nourishment myself. A chicken wing to 
gnaw upon, or ‘Only three grains of corn, 
Mother,’ would help me stay the faintness that 
has come upon me. Lead on, MacDuff.” 

“Somebody take this poor starving creature 
and give him a bowl of broth,” sang out Donald, 
giving Allan a laughing push to lead the way. 
“I’ll be right along, but I have to wait till Sam 
comes to get the ponies.” 

Not much urging was necessary, for some¬ 
thing did smell wonderfully appetizing, and 
they all were hungry. In the gayest of spirits 
they rushed pell-mell down the marble steps and 
across the bridge to the summer-house, while 
Donald handed the ponies over to the grinning 
Sam, and turned to help Polly Wiggles, whose 
floating pink ribbons had caught fast to a rose¬ 
bush. It wasn’t an easy matter to untangle 
them, but at last he was successful. 

“Pin them down with this, please do,” he 
begged eagerly, stooping to fasten the little pin 
he had won to the fluttering ribbons. “There, 
that holds them fast.” 


320 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Polly Wiggles surveyed it doubtfully. “But 
it’s yours,” she objected, the color surging in 
her face as she glanced at him shyly. 

“It’s a trophy, won for the Queen in tourna¬ 
ment, and she must wear it,” he jested, but with 
an air of finality, as he smiled into the blue eyes 
raised to his. 

“Why, if here isn’t Boots!” exclaimed Polly 
Wiggles in astonishment, glancing sharply at a 
dark object that came purringly forward. 
“He’s come to join the party, too.” 

A chorus of calls from the summer-house sent 
them scurrying to join the others at the table, 
where sandwiches, chicken, and ice-cream were 
appearing as if by magic. There was a clatter 
of silver and china, and a babel of laughing 
voices that could be heard up on the porch of 
White Birches as the hungry children did jus¬ 
tice to the dainty supper that Mrs. MacAllister 
had provided, while the grown-ups smiled in 
sympathy at the peals of infectious laughter. 

It was the first time that Polly Wiggles had 
had a near view of Willow Lake, and, sinking 
down on the circular seat that ran about the pa- 


THE MAY FROLIC 321 

vilion, she exclaimed at sight of the loveliness re¬ 
vealed, as she pushed aside the tangled wisteria 
vines and looked dreamily across the waters, 
where moonbeams were cresting the ripples with 
a silvery radiance, and slender white birches 
leaned down to gaze at their own reflections. 
Through the air came the delicious odor of wild 
honeysuckle and syringa, while showers of pink- 
and-white cherry-blossoms drifted with each puff 
of the breeze down to the rush-bordered banks. 

With a tired little sigh the May Queen leaned 
back in her seat, but looked up with a smile as 
Donald solicitously tucked a cushion behind 
her. “Tired?” he asked sympathetically, amid 
the laughter and chatter about them. “It’s been 
a pretty busy day for you.” 

“How about yourself?” she returned with a 
merry glance, as she settled herself luxuriously 
against the soft cushion. “I’ll confess I am a 
wee bit tired, but it’s been worth it.” 

“Isn’t this fun?” demanded Allan, looking 
the picture of contentment, with a sandwich 
in one hand and a glass of fruit punch in the 
other. 


322 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“I drink to the health of Miss Wiggles, our Queen, 
The loveliest sovereign that ever was seen,” 

he proposed, rising with his glass in hand, and 
bowing low to laughing Polly Wiggles. 

“How about the fair Maids of Honor?” in¬ 
quired Kitty coolly, patting Boots, that had 
jumped in her lap. “Don’t they come in for a 
toast, too?” 

“Stay your impatience, it’s not polite,” re¬ 
proved Billy, who had been restored to “life and 
health,” as he expressed it, by several generous 
helpings of sweetbreads and chicken patties. 
“Now here is a toast to those that really deserve 
the honor,” he drawled teasingly, as he lazily 
rose to his feet. 

“A toast to the Herald, a toast to the King, 

To Courtiers noble and gallant, I sing—” 

“While for fair Maids of Honor in dainty array, 

I propose three loud cheers, and a hip-hip hooray,” 

added Jeannette rapidly before Billy could fin¬ 
ish. She turned as she finished to survey her 
cousin, and couldn’t repress a giggle at sight of 



THE MAY FROLIC 323 

his astonished face at having the words taken 
from his mouth. 

“See here, youngster, don’t you know that in¬ 
terrupting is against all royal etiquette?” he 
asked in an aggrieved voice. “What I was go¬ 
ing to say when you so rudely interrupted, 
was-” 

“Don’t say it. Listen to the band concert in¬ 
stead,” Alice advised mischievously, pulling 
him down into his seat. “Doesn’t it sound 
lovely and dreamy at this distance?” 

“And just look at the reflection of these beau¬ 
tiful lanterns in the water,” added Marion, lean¬ 
ing over the rail of the summer-house to admire 
the many colors that sparkled and shimmered in 
the clear lake. 

Allan jumped up to inspect the decorations 
more closely. “I never saw any like these be¬ 
fore,” he said admiringly as he glanced at the 
array of silk lanterns shaped like flowers, fish, 
and dragons that were suspended over his head 
and swayed with every passing breeze. 

“We brought those from Japan with us. I 
don’t believe you could get them over here,” 



324 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

Donald explained, seeing his interest. “Some¬ 
body throw me a sandwich, please.” 

“What a beautiful day we have had!” mused 
Polly Wiggles softly. “Isn’t it a shame that 
such good times have to end?” She sighed re¬ 
gretfully as she listened to the soft whisper of the 
ripples against the bank, for they seemed to mur¬ 
mur mournfully, “All is over, all is over.” 

Gabriel looked about glumly. “Yes, all the 
fun is over, and now we’ll have to knuckle down 
to spelling and history and poetry afternoons,” 
he finished gloomily as he ate his ice-cream with 
gusto. 

“And arithmetic exams come in the very near 
future,” put in Alice dismally as she nibbled a 
macaroon. “O dear! O dear! How I hate 
good times to end.” 

“Cheer up, little one, school closes in another 
two weeks and we always have fun on the last 
day. I think it’s great that they’ve decided to 
give prizes for the best poems submitted. So let 
your heart rejoice. Maybe you’ll get one,” 
Billy consoled her, tweaking her blonde locks. 


THE MAY FROLIC 325 

“And maybe I won’t,” she retorted wither- 
ingly, but Billy refused to be squelched. 

“Now Mary Ann, the star pupil doesn’t seem 
to be worrying about exams, or letting the 
thought interfere with her appetite,” he teased 
wickedly, as Marion started leisurely on her sec¬ 
ond plate of cream. 

“You stop calling me ‘Mary Ann.’ You 
know how I loathe that name, and if you do it 
any more, I’ll call you Little Willie.” 

“Wow, that would be a hard one to live 
down,” Donald laughed as he tossed an olive-pit 
out on the grass and helped himself to more 
sandwiches. “Somebody tell me, please, why 
good times are at an end, anyway? I should 
think they were just beginning, with a lovely 
long vacation to look forward to. Just think of 
the jolly fine times we can all have together.” 

“What kind of times?” demanded practical 
Marion, absently twining one of Jet’s long 
brown curls about her finger as she spoke. 

“Oh,—all kinds,” put in Dick rather vaguely. 
“Say, Don, what’s the name of that little bit of an 


326 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

island in the middle of Willow Lake? It would 
be a bully place for picnics, wouldn’t it?” 

“Great,” Donald responded with enthusiasm 
as he turned to glance where Dick pointed. 
“You deserve a vote of thanks for such a fine 
idea. It’s called ‘Paradise Island,’ I believe. 
We’ll paddle out some day and look it over, it 
only takes a few minutes to get there.” 

“Isn’t it beautiful? It looks like a Paradise,” 
murmured Polly Wiggles as she gazed at the 
moonlight flooded wooded island where willow 
branches trailed green boughs down to the 
water’s edge, and wild azalea was a riot of color 
against the background of green. “Oh, I know 
what we can do!” She sat up suddenly and 
clapped her hands. “Each one of you must tell 
of the special good time you are looking for¬ 
ward to this summer,—in verse.” She glanced 
about expectantly, and smiled at Gabriel’s 
stricken face. 

“Oh, Wiggles,” protested Marion, “that is 
dreadfully hard to do.” 

“No, it isn’t,” insisted the May Queen shaking 
her curls. “It’s really lots of fun, and no one 


THE MAY FROLIC 327 

may say a single solitary word till orders are 
obeyed. Verse first,—free speech afterward. 
I’m still May Queen till the clock strikes twelve,” 
she added mischievously, seeing signs of mutiny 
in Gabriel’s face, “and I command that you all 
obey. The penalty will be a ducking in the 
lake.” 

Gabriel gave an anguished howl. “Here’s 
where I get a bath,” he groaned. “You know I 
simply cant make up poetry.” 

“Yes you can,” persisted Polly Wiggles en¬ 
couragingly. “Now all of you think hard.” 

The silence was profound for a few minutes. 

“I want to go fishing, 

That’s what I am wishing,” 

piped up Dick suddenly. “Now I may talk, 
may I not, Woggsie? We boys could go fish¬ 
ing and then build a camp-fire and cook the fish 
on stones over at the island, isn’t that a wow of a 
plan? You girls could help with the eats of 
course,” he added hastily. 


“Let’s take some horns to toot on loud, 
And have a straw-ride for the crowd, 



328 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

We’d stop some place for tea at night, 
Returning when the moon was bright,” 

suggested Jeannette, blushing as every one ap¬ 
plauded the idea vigorously. 

“Oh, that would be bully good fun,” began 
Gabriel, forgetting orders, and looking aghast 
as Polly Wiggles pointed a stern finger at him. 
“And—and I hope you’ll invite me to come,” 
he brought out at last apologetically amid much 
mirth. 

Billy gave a loud “ahem.” 

“Let’s go on a hot-dog roast, 

Take marshmallows, too, to toast. 

Corn and ’taters piping hot, 

Would taste bully, like as not,” 

he proposed, looking about the group and giv¬ 
ing a subdued snicker at sight of Alice’s and 
Marion’s anguished expressions. “Cheer up, 
the worst is yet to come,” he hissed dramatically. 
Alice made a saucy face at him. 

“Living pictures we could pose, 

All dressed up in fancy clothes, 


329 


THE MAY FROLIC 

Tableaux would be fun, I know, 

And perhaps we’d make some dough,” 

she repeated rapidly with the anxious frown 
leaving her forehead. 

“That’s the best of all,” said Polly Wiggles, 
much pleased. 

“Such slang from the Lady Alice! Where 
did you pick up such a disgusting expression as 
‘dough?’ ” reproved Billy sadly. “Never do 
such slangy words drop from my lips. I fully 
expected after that choice phrase to have you 
continue thusly: 

“ ‘It would be a lot of fun, 

For some Cause, we’d make the mon.’ 

“However, maybe Mary A—excuse me, Mar¬ 
ion, can ‘render us a selection.’ ” 

“I’d propose to give a fair, 

Boys can work and do their share,” 

returned Marion, serenely, giggling at the howl 
of protest that arose from the boys. 

Allan munched a bit of candy reflectively. 


330 


MISS POLLY WIGGLES 


“But the boys say, ‘Nay, nay, nay, 

We’d far rather give a play,’ ” 

he responded swiftly with a laughing glance 
in Marion’s direction. “Hurry up, Don.” 

“Let’s go berrying, I say, 

Some fine morn at break of day, 

Take along this happy bunch, 

Big tin pails, and lots of lunch,” 

Donald suggested, seating himself on the rail 
of the summer-house and whistling under his 
breath. 

“All these suggestions sound grand,” Dick 
said, “and it’s up to us to carry them out. But 
how about the May Queen? Why are you so 
backward about coming forward, Woggsie, are 
you asleep?” 

“Picnics morning, noon, and night, 

I’d consider a delight,” 

Polly Wiggles suggested stifling a yawn, while 
Kitty chimed in: 

“Why not start a club? ’Twould be, 

Lots of fun, as you’ll agree.” 


THE MAY FROLIC 331 

“That would be lovely,” chorused the girls, 
much pleased at the idea. 

“Speak up, Hugh and Gay,” ordered the 
Queen, giving Gabriel a nudge with her scepter. 
“You two are last.” 

“Why, I did give you a rhyme, don’t you re¬ 
member?” Gabriel protested in an injured tone. 

“Not a good-time rhyme,” Polly Wiggles ob¬ 
jected decidedly. “Hurry up.” 

Gabriel pondered desperately. 

“I’d like to tramp around the lakes, 

And hunt for turtles, bugs, and snakes,” 

he volunteered finally, looking thoroughly dis¬ 
gusted when the girls shrieked at the idea. 
“Now what’s the matter with that, I’d like to 
know?” 

“You have no tact, my son,” Billy informed 
him. “Don’t you know that such things offend 
their delicate sensibilities?” 

Allan jumped up with determination in his 
eye. “Into the lake you go, Hugh,” he cried 
grabbing his friend’s auburn thatch of hair 
while Dick seized his feet and a laughing scuffle 


332 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

started. “Do you mean to say that Gay can beat 
you at rhyming?” 

“Ouch, let go. You’ve all talked so much 
that I haven’t had a chance,” Hugh excused him¬ 
self, freeing his hair with a jerk, and searching 
his mind for an idea. “How’s this? 

“Some parties would be fun, I think. 

With lots to eat and lots to drink! 

“Now gimme another glass of punch.” 

“Oh, Hugh,” protested Marion in disgust, 
“don’t you ever think about anything but eat¬ 
ing? Boys certainly are queer.” 

“Well, I think,” Jeannette said, acting as 
peacemaker, “that we won’t be able to complain 
of our good times being over, if all the lovely 
things happen this summer that we have sug¬ 
gested in our rhymes. Hark, Wiggles! Isn’t 
that Mother calling?” 

Sure enough, through the bower of bushes 
and shrubbery banking the terraces that sloped 
up to the house they could hear, “Elizabeth, 
Jeannette, it’s time to say ‘good-night.’ ” 


THE MAY FROLIC 333 

“O dear! May Day is over,” sighed the 
Queen, rising reluctantly. 

“We must go, too,” chorused the other girls, 
jumping to their feet regretfully, “but we’ve had 
a wonderful time.” 

Up the path they scampered, pausing at the 
corner of the big shadowy veranda where Mrs. 
MacAllister was swaying gently to and fro in 
a swinging chair, and she looked up with a 
smile at their approach. 

“We don’t know how to thank you,” began 
Polly Wiggles gratefully, as she stooped to kiss 
the kind friend who had added so much pleasure 
to the May Day for them all. 

“I don’t want you to thank me,” broke in Mrs. 
MacAllister, smiling at the circle of girlish 
faces. “I want you all to use the ponies and 
boats whenever you wish, and to play in the 
summer-houses any time. I just love to have a 
crowd of rollicking young people about, and so 
does Donald. You know I told Mrs. Eaton 
that I’d like to steal her daughters, and an even 
better plan would be to adopt you all,” she fin¬ 
ished jokingly. 


334 MISS POLLY WIGGLES 

“Yes, do,” agreed Donald eagerly. “Adopt 
them as godsons and goddaughters.” 

“And we’ll adopt you as our Fairy God¬ 
mother,” Alice put in contentedly. 

“I’ll walk across the road with you,” Donald 
said as the girls, arm in arm, skipped down the 
path between the silvery birch-trees, while the 
boys followed close behind. Over at The Lilacs 
the lanterns had been taken in and all signs of 
the revelry were over. 

“It must be nine-thirty, for the band is play¬ 
ing ‘Good Night, Ladies,’ ” yawned Jeannette as 
they paused at the gate. “How appropriate. 
Do sing!” 

Up at The Lilacs Mrs. Eaton looked at 
Grandma Carr and smiled as the clear voices 
rang out in the song, followed by what the boys 
called “The Nightcap Chant,” as shoulder to 
shoulder they tramped down the avenue behind 
the laughing girls. 

“Good night, lovely maidens, we’re grieving, 
With sorrow there is no relieving, 

But the hour is late, 


335 


THE MAY FROLIC 

Ere you give us the gate, 

We think it is wise to be leaving,” 

they chanted lustily. 

As the last strains of the ridiculous song died 
away, only the rustling of the trees and the shrill 
piping of the crickets broke the stillness of the 
evening as Donald turned to go. 

“See you to-morrow,” he said, pausing with 
his hand on the gate to glance back over his 
shoulder, and Jeannette and Polly Wiggles 
standing with their arms about each other be¬ 
neath the swaying lilac-bushes, waved “good¬ 
night.” 


THE END 






























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